Squib Wizard
by Ozma
Summary: COMPLETE. Filch learns many lessons about the use and abuse of power, and guilt and forgiveness. Featured characters include Snape, McGonagall, Ginny, Neville, and Draco, among others. Sequel to Squib Doors.
1. Points to Gryffindor and a Life Saved fo...

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Doors"   
Chapter 1: Points for Gryffindor, and A Life Saved for Slytherin  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
  
I stepped out of the faded, nondescript green and silver tapestry into the gloom of Professor   
Severus Snape's office. Severus has his office sealed with a protective spell that only a wizard could break.   
But, the spell had not even slowed the Squib Door down.  
  
Snape's office had been cleaned up a great deal over the past few days. All the debris left over   
from the battle with the vine-monster had been cleared away. The Professor's remaining belongings, the   
few things that had escaped destruction, had been placed on new shelves, surrounding a new desk.   
Everything in the office seemed to be bristling with dangerous protective curses and hexes. Severus knew   
that his office was now vulnerable to invasion, and he was taking no chances.  
  
The collective prickly "push" of all the protective spells made me want to press back against the   
tapestry. Instead, I made myself walk forward to the Professor's new desk.   
  
There was a clean piece of parchment on the blotter, with a quill and an inkwell beside it. These   
were the only items on the desk that were not protected by some spell or other. I dipped the quill into the   
ink.  
  
"I can still get in," I wrote. "Sorry." I dipped the quill again and made a note of the time.  
  
Twirling the quill in my hands, I debated the wisdom of adding an encouraging word or two.   
"Keep trying? Carry on? Chin up?" No, the professor would find probably find that condescending,   
coming from me.  
  
I also pondered the wisdom of mentioning that the protective charm Professor Flitwick had   
placed on his own office had succeeded in making the Squib Door pause. The journey into the diminutive   
Charms Professor's domain had been slower than usual. I'd still been able to gain entry, but it seemed   
that, whatever Flitwick was working on, it was a step in the right direction.   
  
Professor Flitwick had been given the task of finding a charm that would prevent me from using   
the Squib Doors to gain entry into any room in the Castle. He'd given me permission to enter his office at   
random intervals to try out the effectiveness of the Charms he was using.  
  
Over the past few days, Headmaster Dumbledore had changed his mind about not telling anyone   
else about the Squib Doors. After careful consideration, he'd decided that additional people would be   
informed about this new potential risk to the Castle's defenses, on a "need to know" basis. Flitwick had   
been the first additional person who "needed to know."  
  
(Professor Snape had decided that he couldn't wait for Flitwick to come up with something. He   
was trying, on his own, to find a spell that would block the Squib Doors, and he'd also given me   
permission to enter his office at random intervals to test his spells.)  
  
Losing my nerve on the matter of mentioning Flitwick's greater measure of success, I simply   
wrote my name underneath my brief message: "Argus Filch."  
  
I was just stepping away from his desk, when the locked door to Snape's office opened. I didn't   
have time to jump through the tapestry to safety.  
  
A tall, burly Slytherin fifth year girl stood there, staring at me in horror.  
  
"Professor Snape!" Millicent Bulstrode shouted. "Come quickly!"  
  
"Wait! It's not what you're thinking!" I said, desperately. "Don't ..."  
  
"PROFESSOR SNAPE!!!!" she bellowed, even louder.  
  
Behind Millicent, out in Snape's classroom, were several other Slytherin girls. I recognized   
blonde Pansy Parkinson, another fifth year, and the tiny Morgan sisters, Lilith and Gehenna; a second and   
first year, respectively. All the girls stared at me, wide-eyed as Severus Snape entered from the corridor.  
  
He caught sight of me and his eyes narrowed to cold, black slits.  
  
"He was in your office, Professor!" And it was locked!" Pansy Parkinson reported, breathlessly.  
  
"Thank you, children. Now, please step out into the hallway. I want to have a little ...chat with   
Mr. Filch. In private."  
  
"Go!" He ordered them, when the girls lingered for a moment, obviously curious about what he   
was going to do to me.  
  
Knowing that he would be obeyed, Severus stepped into his office and shut the door behind him   
with a slam.  
  
"IDIOT!" he hissed.  
  
"How could I have known that you would be sending students in here?" I demanded.   
  
"You knew full well that we're cleaning the corridor out there!" Severus snapped. "Since you are   
the one who organized the work schedules!"  
  
"Well, I expected the children to stay out in the corridor! If you needed something from in here,   
why didn't you fetch it for yourself?"  
  
"How could I have known you would choose such an inopportune time to test my wards?" Snape   
demanded. His voice dripped acid and his eyes burned darkly in his pale face.   
  
I had clearly made him angry. Nervously, I retreated.   
  
"You did say `random intervals!'" I reminded him, defensively.  
  
"I assumed that you would have the sense to wait until no one was nearby! Perhaps at night, or   
during a meal! Not when I have the corridor all full of children, scrubbing down the walls and the floor!   
There are Gryffindors out there with my Slytherins. I sent Millicent in here to fetch more lye because I   
preferred to keep an eye on things!"   
  
His tone changed, suddenly. "Filch. Stop. Don't back up any further...!"  
  
Snape was reaching out to grab me. His expression was so fierce that, despite his words, I took   
another involuntary step backwards.  
  
Right into a protective curse in front of one of his shelves.  
  
I was told later that my howl of anguish was heard by the house elves, all the way over in the   
kitchens.  
  
******  
  
"Please tell me that these porcupine quills don't have poison on them!" I moaned.  
  
"No, there's no poison," Snape was making an attempt to sound soothing, but I could hear   
amusement in his silky voice. "I considered them enough of a deterrent without added enhancements.   
Hold still, Argus. This is going to hurt. You may want to grab the desk."  
  
"Y-you sent the Bulstrode girl in here to fetch lye...? Was she supposed to get her bum shot all   
full of quills too?"  
  
"Don't be absurd. Miss Bulstrode knows the countercurses. Filch, hold still. I won't tell you   
again...."  
  
Both of us heard voices out in his classroom. A moment later, someone was pounding on the   
office door.   
  
"Professor Snape?" That was Millicent. "The Gryffindors won't stay out! I tried..."  
  
"Mr. Filch?" I recognized Neville Longbottom's voice. "Answer me! Are you all right?"  
  
Snape chose this moment to murmur "Tracto!" His spell yanked the all the sharp quills   
embedded up and down my back out, simultaneously.   
  
I shrieked in pain.  
  
"Mr. Filch!" That was Neville again, sounding worried.   
  
"He'll be quite all right, Longbottom!" Snape said, with a sneer in his voice. The sneer didn't   
match his expression, which was quite definitely amused. "In a day or two..." he added.  
  
I rubbed my wounds, gingerly, glowering at him.  
  
It was the first time in ages that I had seen Severus looking anything other than haunted and   
bone-weary. If I'd been in a more charitable mood, I would have been pleased. Unfortunately, I was not   
feeling particularly charitable at the moment.  
  
"You should get yourself to the hospital wing, Filch. In case I didn't quite get all of them. Take   
the long way, don't use your Door. Otherwise the children are likely to think that I've done away with you   
completely. Can you walk?"  
  
"Oh, I can walk. Just don't ask me to sit down..." I growled. Taking a step, I winced.  
  
"It's your own fault." Snape replied, seeing my pained expression. "The next time you test the   
wards on my door, remember to steer clear of the curses by the shelves."  
  
"There won't be a next time!" I said, sullenly. "I'm going to be working strictly with Professor   
Flitwick from now on. He's making some progress..." I added, snippily.  
  
I had the satisfaction of seeing his expression change from amusement to chagrin as he opened   
his office door to drag me out into a knot of milling young Gryffindors and Slytherins.  
  
The expression of concern on Neville's face surprised me. I knew that Neville was fond of me. I   
was fond of both him and Ginny Weasley too.   
  
But, really, I hadn't expected either child to continue to show it so openly. Liking the foul, old   
caretaker would hardly increase their standing with their fellow students, after all. Gryffindor courage   
comes in many forms, however. Neville and Ginny always smiled at me when they saw me in the corridor,   
and said cheerful "Good Mornings" to me in the Great Hall at breakfast. It took some getting used to. I   
always returned their greetings gruffly, wondering how long their friendliness towards me would last.  
  
"Longbottom!" Snape said, scowling. "Mr. Filch requires assistance. He needs to be helped up to   
Madam Pomfrey, in the hospital wing. Can you manage that?"  
  
Neville nodded, giving Professor Snape the angriest look I had ever seen on the gentle boy's face.   
He came forward to support me with his left arm. His burned right arm was still in a sling.   
  
To my surprise, I saw that Neville's fellow Gryffindor fifth years; Parvati Patil and Dean   
Thomas, were also directing looks of concern at me, and dark looks at Snape.  
  
"You poor man!" Parvati said. "What has he done to you, now?"  
  
I knew that I had Peeves to thank for this. The miserable poltergeist had been telling people that   
the Headmaster had allowed Professor Snape to beat me for the part I'd played in awakening the magic-  
eating vine-creature that had left "his" dungeons in such a shambles.  
  
In truth, Severus hadn't laid a finger on me. Though it had amused both him and Dumbledore to   
allow Peeves to think he had. It had certainly shut the poltergeist up for a few days. No one seemed to   
believe my protests that it hadn't happened. And this little incident was not going to help matters any.  
  
"He hasn't done anything to me," I muttered, blushing with embarrassment. "It was the   
protective curses on his cleaning supplies..."  
  
"He should have asked you for your permission, before he went skulking around in there! Right,   
Professor Snape?" Pansy said, giving me an angry look.  
  
"I believe that is a mistake Mr. Filch will not make again, any time soon, Miss Parkinson."   
Severus said, amusement in his voice once more.  
  
"You were busy..." I muttered. "I didn't want to bother..."  
  
At the same time, Neville spoke up. "He didn't mean to do anything wrong, Professor!" The boy   
said, hotly. "You know he didn't."   
  
Neville looked Snape right in the eye. Unlike the other children, he knew exactly how I'd gotten   
into Snape's locked office. He could probably make a fair guess at "why" too. Neville understood the   
necessity of keeping the secret, but he didn't like to see me being treated like a common thief.  
  
The whole room went silent. Neville Longbottom had been bullied by Professor Snape ever since   
his very first potions lesson back in his very first year. Everyone knew how frightened the boy was of   
Severus. He'd never talked back to him before, never defended himself against the sarcastic taunts and the   
harsh criticism. Neville was gentle and self effacing. He found it difficult to stand up for himself. But I   
had recently seen how very bravely Neville could stand up for other people.  
  
Severus's eyes narrowed. This was an attack from a completely unexpected quarter. In his all too   
recently violated dungeons. In front of his precious, all too recently threatened, Slytherins. Oh, my. It   
seemed that gentle Neville could choose his battles as recklessly as any of the more hot tempered young   
Gryffindors.  
  
"Well, now..." Snape's voice was an icy whisper, that nevertheless carried to every corner of the   
very quiet dungeon. "Mr. Longbottom..."   
  
The temperature in the dungeon appeared to be dropping. Neville kept his eyes locked on   
Professor Snape's and didn't look away. Parvati and Dean had moved up on either side of him to offer   
him support, but Severus didn't spare either of them a glance. Poor Neville had sown the wind and he was   
about to reap the whirlwind.  
  
This could be very bad. I had to do something.  
  
"You should have remained silent, idiot boy!" Snape hissed. "You've just earned yourself..."  
  
"Twenty-five points for Gryffindor!" I spoke up, hastily.  
  
Everyone was staring at me now. Snape's dark eyes went wide. Another attack from an   
unexpected quarter!  
  
"F-for what happened... with the... the vines. Neville saved me, then. And Ginny did too. So   
another twenty five points to Gryffindor, for her as well..."  
  
My face white, I locked eyes with Severus. If you're going to be angry with anyone, I pleaded   
with him silently, let it be with me. Not the boy.  
  
"Professor...? C-can he DO that?" Pansy asked in a small, indignant voice. "Can he actually   
*give* points?"  
  
"Of course I can!" I said. "I've just never done it before. I am well within my rights, and   
Professor Snape knows it."  
  
Severus took a deep breath. "Get this wretch out of my sight. Now!" he snarled at Neville. "And   
yourself too!"  
  
Neville took me by the arm and pulled me out of the dungeon as fast as I could limp. Parvati and   
Dean stared after us with incredulous delight, while the Slytherins stood around in shocked silence.  
  
Neither of us spoke a word until we'd turned a corner away from the area where other children   
were scrubbing the floors and walls of the corridor.  
  
"Neville, you shouldn't have..."  
  
"He had no right to treat you like that! What did his curse do to you?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much, really. Just shot me full of porcupine quills..."  
  
The boy looked at my back. "You're bleeding! He doesn't need to have such vicious spells   
guarding his things! He knows that you're the only one who can use the tapestries. It's not as if anyone in   
the Castle can just walk in there. He should trust you." His voice was as indignant as Pansy's had been.  
  
"He does trust me. But Professor Snape doesn't like to feel ...vulnerable. He's under a great deal   
of pressure."  
  
"I can't believe you're actually sticking up for him!" Neville said. Then he sighed. "I can't   
believe I'm arguing with you. I know you can get to the hospital wing much more quickly without me, Mr.   
Filch. Call one of your Doors."  
  
"Neville... do you realize that Professor Snape sent you with me, precisely because he knows that   
I can call a Door in front of you?" I asked, leaning against the stone wall. My attempts at summoning the   
Doors were not always successful, but the tapestries nearly always responded quickly when I was in some   
sort of distress. The faded yellow-and-black Door was there in an instant.  
  
"I'll know it's difficult, but try to be patient with him." I said, not yet stepping into it. "Don't   
argue with him on my account. Maybe it would be best if you stayed out of his way for a while." I thought   
about the various jobs being done all over the Castle and its grounds.  
  
"Professor Sprout and her seventh years are outside, in front of the greenhouses, dissecting the   
dead vine-creature's main root. I know that she wouldn't mind if you wanted to observe." I added.  
  
Neville nodded. "All right, I will." But he stood and watched me, sternly until I stepped into the   
tapestry.  
  
"Take me to the hospital wing... please," I moaned to my Door. Those porcupine quills really did   
hurt.  
  
******  
  
Poppy would not let me return to work. She removed some deeply embedded quills that Professor   
Snape's spell had missed. It was a painful process. Then she put me to bed, with soothing poultices all   
down my back, and a potion that made me too sleepy to argue with her.  
  
I woke up, several hours later, lifting my face out of my pillow to find myself being stared at by a   
pair of angry golden eyes.  
  
"It wasn't my fault!" I told Mrs. Norris, who was sitting on the bed beside me, in a rather   
Sphinx-like pose. "Don't look at me like that."  
  
She flicked an ear and continued to give me the same glare.  
  
"Thank you for giving me twenty five points, Mr. Filch."   
  
Bleary-eyed, I turned to look at Ginny Weasley, who'd come into the hospital ward with my cat.  
  
"You're welcome, Ginny."  
  
"Neville, Parvati and Dean told me what happened! How do you feel?"  
  
"Well, I've always wondered what it would be like to have to eat off the kitchen mantelpiece..." I   
groaned, but I managed to smile at her. "I suppose the Unicorn and the Maiden were glad to have their   
painting back again?"   
  
She nodded. "Yes, they were. And those men were glad to be back at their banquet. And the old   
woman was glad to be back at her distaff..."  
  
"You were very clever to have put an unbreakable charm on those crates. I didn't even realize   
you'd done it." I said.  
  
"I wasn't sure it would hold," she confessed. "But we did such good work, Neville, you and I. It   
would have been terrible to have lost those paintings."  
  
She stayed with me for a while, chattering away comfortably enough, until I felt too weary to   
keep my eyes open. Evidently, the potion hadn't worn off yet.  
  
Drifting back to sleep again, I heard Ginny talking, but it wasn't to me.  
  
"Poor Mr. Filch. He always looks so frail now. Will he ever be completely well again?" Her voice   
sounded sad.   
  
"I don't know, child." Madam Pomfrey answered quietly.   
  
I knew they weren't just talking about my little mishap with the porcupine quills.   
  
Brave Ginny was asking Poppy a question that I hadn't dared to ask. Not since I'd awakened for   
the first time, after the Death Eaters had gotten through with me.  
  
I was afraid of her answer. Or perhaps I already knew it.  
  
"He needs more time, and rest and he needs to stop doing foolish things. Even so, he may never   
again be as strong as he was," Poppy said. I felt her gentle hands adujsting fresh poultices on my back.  
  
"She knows, doesn't she?" Ginny asked. "Don't you, Mrs. Norris?" I heard the answering purr of   
a sleepy cat. "That's why she doesn't ever like to leave him alone."  
  
Don't be sad, Ginny...  
  
I think, maybe, this old man may still have a few years left.  
  
******  
  
When I woke again, the ward was dark. I heard frantic voices.  
  
"Severus! What's happened to the poor child!?"  
  
Professor Snape's voice was harsh with fear. "The girls were working in the corridor by my   
office. One of those cursed vines had gotten caught in a crack in the flagstones! We thought they were all   
dead!! But a piece of creeper still had some life left in it!"  
  
His voice changed, softening. "Oh, it's all right, Gehenna, child. Don't cry!"  
  
I lifted my head from the pillow. I saw Severus, cradling mousy little Slytherin first year,   
Gehenna Morgan. Barely conscious, and dazed, the child clung to him, weeping silently.   
  
"It wrapped around her throat, a piece as thin as a wire. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't cry   
out for help," Snape said, raggedly. "If her sister, Lilith, and Pansy hadn't seen and screamed for me..."  
  
"Look at your hands, Severus. You've burned them..."  
  
"I had to rip the cursed vine off her throat! Damn my hands! Help the child..."  
  
Poppy took Gehenna into her arms and rocked her, murmuring cooling charms, healing charms.   
Her wand was held gently over the child's heart.  
  
"I won't allow them, any of my Slytherins, back into the corridor where my office is, until   
Sprout and her Badgers have gone over it, inch by inch!" Snape was snarling. "I thought it was safe or I   
never would have..."  
  
I slid myself gingerly out of bed, leaving the poultices behind me, not even disturbing Mrs.   
Norris.   
  
Severus sat, rocking slightly, as if to help Poppy soothe Gehenna. His burned hands were held   
away from his body, face white with shock and pain, dark eyes huge.  
  
If Neville and Ginny, or any of the Gryffindors could have seen him now, they wouldn't have   
recognized him. But, if they were to see him now, he would never have forgiven them.  
  
"It would have taken them, Argus..." He said, looking up at me. "The littlest ones. Just like that.   
Swiftly, silently. No chance even to scream. None of us knew that the parts could keep twitching for so   
long after the brain was destroyed. None of us knew! Well, Albus knows now. And Sprout. And it will be   
dead, every last bit of it!"  
  
He took a deep breath, slowly winning his battle for control.  
  
Poppy stood up, cradling Gehenna. She carried the child over to an empty bed and tucked her in.   
Then she fetched salve and bandages for the child's burned throat.  
  
Afterwards, I helped her bandage Snape's hands.  
  
As soon as we were finished, he stood up to leave. "Don't say a word!" He hissed at Poppy.   
"Lilith is awake, waiting for me to bring news of her sister! I'm going back to my children."  
  
Poppy smiled, and didn't argue with him.  
  
"Argus?" Snape said, a little more calmly. "It may be that the protective curses in my office are a   
bit... unnecessarily... harsh. If I were to ask Flitwick's advice, would you consider resuming your efforts   
on my behalf?"  
  
"Of course, Professor," I told him.  
  
END OF CHAPTER ONE.  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I had to write another story, just to thank all the nice people who reviewed "Squib Doors."  
  
Jorsen: Thank you!!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!!   
  
Lataradk: Thank you!!! I thought I was all finished for a couple of days and then some new story ideas   
just came and grabbed me by the throat.  
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!!! Yes, I agree that Snape is every bit as protective of his children as McGonagall   
is of hers. Writing Severus in when he's in protective "Papa Snake" mode is so much fun , I couldn't   
resist doing some more of it.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!!! I wish I'd seen "Prince of Egypt." The music is lovely. I think I know   
what you mean, and that was exactly the effect that I was trying for. Yes, Argus's new talent has a lot of   
possibilities...  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!!! Yes, that's exactly why Barty Crouch, junior, wanted to attack the Slytherin   
children... revenge against their fathers and mothers, who escaped Azkaban. Snape gets quite emotional   
when his baby snakes are threatened.  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!!! Imagining Severus, Sirius, Remus and Argus's reactions to being   
compared to each other makes me laugh. It's enough to make me want to try to fit it into a story   
sometime.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!!! Yes, I am planning more stories with Filch. The old grump won't leave me   
alone.  
  
Tatiana: Thank you!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
10 


	2. Constant Vigilance

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 2: Constant Vigilance!  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
The students at Hogwarts are not allowed to be out of their beds, running around the Castle   
corridors, using magic in the wee hours of the morning. I could give you two dozen good reasons why not,   
right off the top of my head, without even needing to think.  
  
But, "After Midnight, It's The Staff's Turn!" was a reason that I'd never thought about before.  
  
Gasping for breath, a stitch in my side, I crouched just inside the door to the right-hand corridor   
on the third floor. Hagrid had long since found greener pastures for Fluffy, but the corridor still retained   
(if only to my senses) a softly whispered memory of waves on a beach, and a faint tang of salty sea air.  
  
My heart was pounding nervously. Thank the Fates, I hadn't run into any wandering students!   
Meeting Fred and George Weasley right now would be a nightmare. And I wasn't too willing to have   
Peeves see me either. Sneaking around the Castle corridors, actually worrying about who might see me,   
was giving me an extremely uncomfortable and unwelcome look at life in the Castle from the students'   
point of view.  
  
Still, it wasn't being found by the Twins, or by Peeves that worried me the most...  
  
I strained my ears, listening for the dull thump of a heavy staff, and the distinctive *clunk* of a   
claw footed, wooden leg.  
  
Moody wasn't anywhere nearby, from the sound of things. That didn't mean I was safe.  
  
I focused my mind and heart on a silent plea.  
  
On the wall, just across the corridor from me, a tapestry appeared. Nondescript, and so faded I   
could barely make out its faint blue-and-copper hues, it was a very welcome sight. All I had to do was   
reach it.  
  
I'd barely gotten to my feet when I felt the whisper of magic against my skin. I looked up to see   
a red, pulsating ball of light, the size of a grapefruit, flying down the corridor towards me, swifter than a   
golden snitch!   
  
Throwing caution to the winds, I ran towards the tapestry.  
  
I did not see, or even sense, the second red, pulsating ball of light. It came through the closed   
wooden door to the corridor, directly behind me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, dazed;   
the tapestry still beyond my reach. My back, still sore from a run-in with Professor Snape's protective   
curses a week earlier, felt like it just had been struck with a heavy fist.  
  
Both balls of light circled me, buzzing like giant, angry red bees.   
  
Clunk.... clunk... clunk.  
  
A weathered wooden staff appeared in my line of vision. On one side of the staff, visible beneath   
a long, black wizard's robe, was a normal foot in a normal boot. On the staff's other side was a carved,   
wooden leg ending in a clawed foot.   
  
"Didn't take a moment to look behind you," said a low, gravelly voice above me, "Did you,   
Filch?"  
  
Still breathing hard, I shook my head.  
  
I looked up, into a face that appeared to have been carved out of wood, by a sculptor who had   
very little idea what human faces were supposed to look like. Every bit of the face was scarred.  
  
Mismatched eyes studied me sternly. One eye was small, dark and beady, The other was vivid   
blue, large and round as a coin.  
  
"Can my secutus spells hunt you, and your Doors, through wood? Through stone?" Alastor "Mad   
Eye" Moody asked me.  
  
"Yes..." I replied. Those cursed tracking spells of his were swift, and they could pursue me   
anywhere. They seemed to know where my Doors would appear, even before I did.  
  
Aurors know some tricks that most other wizards don't.  
  
"Can your Doors save you, if you can't manage to reach them?" The retired Auror growled at me.  
  
"No..." I said.  
  
He reached out a gnarled, scarred hand and pulled me to my feet.  
  
"What am I about to tell you ?"  
  
"Constant Vigilance..." I said, rubbing my aching back.  
  
"Yep. You should be ready for an attack at all times!" The beady eye narrowed, glaring at me.   
The bright blue eye rolled about madly, keeping the entire corridor in view.  
  
"One more thing, Filch. Did I *say* that this evening's lesson was over yet?" Moody grunted.  
  
Oh, no.  
  
The tapestry was only a few steps away, but I didn't have time to move.  
  
"Pendeo!" Moody growled.  
  
I was jerked, roughly, up into the air. Helpless, I simply hung there, my feet dangling above the   
floor.  
  
"I could be anyone..." Moody growled at me. "A Death Eater. The Dark Lord himself. And I   
could do anything that I wanted with you right now."  
  
His harsh words sent shocks of fear through me. I still woke up, trembling, from nightmares of   
rusty chains and bitter cold darkness, and sharp knives and blood.  
  
Moody's mismatched eyes bored into mine. He looked every bit as haunted as I felt.  
  
His staff thumped furiously against the floor. "Filch!" The old Auror lectured me. "Were you   
supposed to let me near you until I told you that the lesson was over?"  
  
"No..." I said, miserably.  
  
He leaned in close. "Just when you think you're safe, that's when you should be the most afraid.   
The strongest magic in the world can't protect you, if you've let your guard down! Remember that!"  
  
He released his spell.   
  
I landed hard on the stone floor, unable to suppress a yelp of pain.  
  
"*Now*, Filch..." Moody told me, almost gently. "Tonight's lesson is over. I'll see you again in a   
few days."  
  
I didn't move until he'd clumped away.  
  
When the last echoing *clunk* had faded, I got slowly to my feet, rubbing the seat of my   
breeches. Thanks to Snape and his protective curses, it had been a week since I'd been able to sit down   
comfortably. Now, thanks to Moody, it looked like I would still be needing a pillow on my chair for   
another day or two.  
  
As I hobbled towards the tapestry door, which had waited for me patiently, I heard a plaintive   
mew.  
  
"Hello, my sweet," I said, softly. "Thank you for staying out of Moody's way."  
  
Mrs. Norris wound her way in and out, around my ankles. I held out my arms and she jumped   
into them, climbing up onto my shoulder. Her purring, right next to my ear, soothed me. I knew that she   
feared and disliked Moody, though she did seem to have warmed up to him a little, since the year when   
he'd taught Defense Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts.   
  
"You don't like this, but it's necessary," I told her. "The Headmaster wants me to learn how to   
protect myself. I hope that Moody hasn't gone clumping off to tell Dumbledore that I'm a complete waste   
of his time."  
  
Sighing, I looked at the tapestry in front of me. "You couldn't have appeared on the wall, right   
behind me?" I grumbled. "Oh, never mind. Just take me to the staff bathroom, in the dungeons. Please."  
  
******  
  
A hot bath was just the thing to relieve my aches.   
  
I'd been taking a lot of them lately.  
  
The staff bathroom down in the dungeons isn't the most luxurious in the Castle, but I've never   
had any complaints about it. There's a staff bathroom closer to my rooms, but the one in the dungeons is   
more private. Professor Snape is the only other person who uses it on a regular basis.  
  
The battle with the vine-beast had damaged the walls a bit, but the plumbing was still intact and   
functioning. There's a copper tub, with taps all around it, big enough to swim in. It's set on a rectangular   
platform. Luckily, the vines had left the tub alone. There's enough torches set in the wall to keep the place   
from looking too gloomy.  
  
Taking two towels from a wardrobe in the corner, I set them on the step and started filling the tub   
with the hottest water I could bear.  
  
Mrs. Norris sat, like a small, furry sentinel on the stone platform while I stood and waited for the   
tub to fill. When the water was high enough, I slid myself into it, gingerly, and sighed.  
  
My cat busied herself with a bath of her own, to keep me company.  
  
"I'm really glad that I wasn't there to hear Moody's first reaction when the Headmaster told him   
what he wanted him to do..." I muttered.  
  
I could imagine what he'd said. An Auror, even a retired one, wasting his time on a Squib?   
Unheard of. But, Dumbledore had been able to convince him, somehow.   
  
A few days earlier, when I'd been summoned to the Headmaster's office, I'd found Moody   
waiting for me, with Dumbledore, the matter already settled.  
  
"Argus, you remember Alastor Moody. Alastor, you remember Argus Filch, our caretaker?"  
  
Moody and I had both nodded. I'd kept a tight hold on Mrs. Norris, who was lying across my   
shoulders. She'd been afraid of Moody, when he'd taught at the Castle. But now, she simply regarded him   
with calm golden eyes.  
  
I'd tried to keep my face as unreadable as hers. I know that my looks aren't ever going to win me   
any prizes, (unless Witch Weekly ever decides to sponsor a "Least-Charming-Smile" award) but when it   
came to ugliness, Moody was in a class by himself. I knew it was rude to stare at him, but I couldn't help   
it.  
  
Moody was probably used to being stared at anyhow, I thought.  
  
Without preamble, Moody said, "Albus told me about what you can do with those Doors. Show   
me."  
  
I gave the Headmaster an uncertain look and received an encouraging nod in return.  
  
Nearly every space on Dumbledore's office wall is crowded with portraits of old headmasters and   
headmistresses. But I found a small, clear spot and rested my hand against it.  
  
A moment later, the wall changed and shifted to accommodate a tattered tapestry, with faint   
traces of black and yellow, still visible.  
  
Moody stepped up to examine the tapestry closely, with his magical eye. I retreated back to where   
Dumbledore stood beside his desk. Watching Moody examine my Door like that made me feel a bit   
anxious.  
  
"Headmaster, what is he doing?" I whispered. "He's not going to harm it, is he?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled, and shook his head.  
  
"Filch," Moody said, gruffly. "I'd like to see one of the other Doors now. Send this one away and   
call a different one for me."  
  
When I reached out to touch the wall, he caught my hand. "Try to do it without touching the   
wall," he said.  
  
"I'm not sure if I can..."   
  
"Try," growled Moody.  
  
Once more, I looked uncertainly at Dumbledore. I got another encouraging nod.  
  
I eased Mrs. Norris off my shoulders and held her close, for luck.  
  
Shutting my eyes, I focused.  
  
Nothing happened for several, very long minutes. I could feel my heart beating very hard and   
fast.  
  
Something in the room shifted, a moment before I nearly blacked out.  
  
Dumbledore helped me over to one of the chairs in his office. The seat had a big, soft cushion. I   
gave the Headmaster a grateful look. He must have been talking to Poppy.  
  
Still clutching Mrs. Norris, I lowered myself carefully into it.  
  
I hadn't been able to send the black-and-yellow tapestry away. But it had been joined by two of   
the others. The red-and-gold tapestry and the green-and-silver tapestry now flanked it.  
  
"I'm sorry..." I said, hoarsely. "That wasn't what you wanted."  
  
"Close enough," grunted Moody. His blue eye examined the three Doors, while his other eye   
studied me. "Took a lot out of you, did it?"  
  
I nodded. "I've never called them without touching the wall before. It was ...difficult."  
  
"You'll find it much easier, by the time I'm through with you."  
  
"Wh-what?"  
  
"Alastor has agreed to help you learn to work with the Doors," the Headmaster explained, resting   
a hand on my shoulder.  
  
"This talent of yours could be a serious threat to the Castle if a Death Eater ever gets a hold of   
you." Moody said, gruffly. "You need to know how to fight back, with everything you've got. Albus wants   
me to help you. I told him that we could start, tonight. Do you agree?"  
  
Shocked speechless, I could only nod.  
  
"Good. Put the cat down. Your first lesson is beginning now. The lesson won't be over until I say   
it's over. Understand?"  
  
I nodded again, giving Mrs. Norris a gentle nudge off my lap. She hissed indignantly and stalked   
over to the foot of the Phoenix perch behind the door. Fawkes, who'd been sleeping, stirred and trilled a   
few soft, sympathetic notes to her. Curling up under his perch, she pretended not to take any further   
interest in the proceedings.   
  
But she did keep one golden eye slitted open and fixed firmly on me.  
  
"Ready? Good. Suppose I'm a Dark Wizard. I want to stop you from getting away from me. All   
I'd have to do is this..."  
  
His wand was suddenly in his hand. "Pendeo!"   
  
`Wingardium Leviosa' is the first levitating spell that Professor Flitwick teaches his students. It's   
a powerful charm, but a witch or wizard can use it for delicate work as well as for lifting heavy loads. The   
spell that Moody was using on me was much harsher.  
  
I hung in midair, like a prey animal, dangling from a wolf's mouth.  
  
"Can't move, can you? Can't touch the wall, either," Moody growled.   
  
"It's all right, Albus," he said to Dumbledore, who was watching him, one bushy silver eyebrow   
raised. "Don't give me that look. I'm keeping him up like this, so he won't hurt himself if he passes out.   
He's stronger than he looks. He's a Squib, who's managed to live to a decent age. Most of 'em don't   
manage that. Sad, but true."  
  
Wide-eyed, I stared at Moody. What? Most squibs died young? I'd never known that. No one had   
ever told me that. Why hadn't anyone ever told me that?  
  
"Pay attention, Filch!" Moody barked. "I want you to call the fourth Door. The one that isn't   
here. Then I want you to send the other three away. Now."  
  
By the time Moody said that we were through with my first lesson, I was limp, trembling and   
covered with sweat. But, I thought with satisfaction, I'd managed to do most of the things he'd asked me   
to do. Without touching the wall once!  
  
"Good. You'll do." Alastor Moody told me, gruffly. I felt as if I'd been awarded an Order of   
Merlin.  
  
"I've got homework for you, Filch. Practice calling the Doors without touching the walls. Singly   
and in groups. Until you can do it easily. Got it? Good. I'll see you again in a few days. Albus, I'll be in   
touch, later."  
  
Dumbledore had caught me as Moody's spell let me go.  
  
******  
  
Tonight's lesson, my second, had been rougher than the first. As before, we'd started off in the   
Headmaster's office. Dumbledore and Fawkes had been elsewhere, and Moody was waiting for me, alone.  
  
At his orders, I'd also come alone, without Mrs. Norris. Who wasn't very happy with me, as a   
result.  
  
"Filch, you're a Squib," Moody began. "I'm not saying that to be offensive, I'm saying it because   
it's true. You've never received any magical training. Anything you know, you've been able to pick up   
because you work at this school. You're probably not used to thinking of yourself as someone who could   
fight a Dark wizard on your own. Am I right?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"You've got to stop thinking that way! I know it won't be easy. But sometimes, it doesn't matter   
how much magic you have. It only matters how well you can use what you have. What I want you to do is   
very simple. We're going to play a game. Hide-and-go-seek. I'm a Dark Wizard, and you mustn't let me   
catch you. Not until I tell you the lesson is over. Understand? Good. Call your Doors. All four of them."  
  
Hands at my sides, I did as he asked. No sweating, no trembling. I'd been practicing.   
  
The four Doors responded when I summoned them. The last one to appear, the green-and-silver,   
came, just as I felt a tingle of magic at my back.  
  
"Secutus!" I heard Moody say.  
  
Turning around, I saw the old Auror, surrounded by hissing, angry looking red balls of light.   
They swirled around him, making him look even more fearsome than usual.  
  
My reaction to the brush of magic that had preceded his spell made his ordinary, human eye   
widen. "Felt that, did you?" He asked. "Even before I spoke the actual spell. Interesting. You're full of   
surprises, aren't you? Now, stay still."  
  
I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. I was too frightened. All those buzzing lights were now   
flying around me! After doing that for what seemed like an eternity, they buzzed around my Doors too.  
  
"They're getting a `scent'" Moody explained. "My hunting dogs. All right, Filch. Let's see how   
long you can stay ahead of me. Pick a Door."  
  
******  
  
"I didn't do very well tonight..." I confessed to Mrs. Norris. "Oh, I managed to stay ahead of   
him and those ...things of his, at least for a while. But I let my guard down too soon."  
  
I sighed. "It's funny. I always thought that learning how to use a magical talent would be so easy.   
But it's not."  
  
"Not Easy" was an understatement. The bath had helped my aching muscles considerably, but I   
still felt so tired that I wanted to sleep for a month.   
  
Instead I had to be awake to go to work in a few hours.  
  
Climbing from the tub, I let the water out, carefully rinsing the copper tub clean with the last of   
it. At least I could have a few hours sleep.  
  
"Every lesson leads to one that's harder..." I said, ruefully. "One minute I'm doing fine, and the   
next minute I feel absolutely hopeless. I'll never be able to do what he expects me to do."  
  
My voice got softer. "How can the brats stand this, day after day? Much less have any energy left   
over to get into all the various forms of trouble they get themselves into?"  
  
Wrapping one of the towels around my waist, and drying my hair with the other, I moved wearily   
towards the blue-and-copper tapestry that waited patiently on the wall.  
  
"My bedroom, please..." I said, wearily, stepping into my Door, with Mrs. Norris padding softly   
beside me.  
  
END OF CHAPTER TWO  
  
Author's Notes: (Long ones, this time...)  
  
I wasn't sure after "Goblet of Fire," if Barty Crouch, jr.'s year long impersonation of Moody was general   
knowledge or not. I have chosen to believe that Dumbledore didn't make this information public. Really,   
there wasn't a good reason for Dumbledore to tell everyone; it would have caused Moody additional   
anguish and it would have scared the hell out of a lot of kids and parents. Barty Crouch, jr was beyond   
doing anyone any further harm.  
  
Bratkatze: Wow! Thank you!!! I love the children in the Harry Potter books, but the it's the adults who   
really grab my imagination, because Rowling gives only intriguing hints about the people behind the   
surfaces the children can see.  
  
I have hopes that Harry and his friends will eventually grow to see the adults in their lives as complete,   
complex people. Harry's perspective has been deepening steadily throughout all the books.   
  
I doubt that poor Filch is going to be one of the adults that Harry will learn to see in three dimensions, but   
I can hope. I'm almost certain that the kids will learn to appreciate Severus, because he's a much more   
major character. I fell in love with him back when I read the first book, when I realized how the children   
had misjudged the man. Poor Severus. Trying so hard to protect Harry and the Stone, and what does he   
get for his trouble? Mauled by a Cerebus, and set on fire! Not only that, his Slytherins got beaten at the   
last moment, by the Gryffindors. It's enough to break your heart!  
  
I've loved Mrs. Norris since the first book too. Even though Rowling describes her as a "Foul Cat." Cats   
are great. There are no foul cats.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! I enjoy writing Filch and Snape too. They have an odd relationship. Snape is a   
powerful wizard and has a far more intimidating personality. Filch is a little afraid of him, but, on the   
other hand, he's known Severus since he was a skinny little eleven year old, who wasn't as objectionable   
as most of the other brats were. Every now and then Filch still sees flashes of that skinny eleven year old.   
Filch doesn't let go of anything easily... not the kids he hated, and not the ones he cared about.  
  
I like writing Filch, Neville and Ginny too. To quote Rowling "there are some things you can't share   
without ending up liking each other." Escaping from wizard-burning, magic-eating killer vines is another   
one of those things.   
  
I see Neville as being very comfortable with strong-willed older people. He's probably spent more time   
with older people than he has with other children. Neville is used to thinking of his magic as being   
automatically "weaker" than that of everyone else around him. But he knows that isn't true in Filch's   
case. So he's protective.  
  
Snape is incorrigible, isn't he? He's such fun to write. I'm trying hard to keep him in character, and not   
make him too nice.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Wow, thank you and thank you!!! (I LOVE "Monty Python and the Holy Grail!"   
And I love the monks' chant: "Jesu eam dominen... dona eaus requiem..." -WHACK-)  
  
Argus' health isn't what it should be. Mrs. Norris, Peeves and Ginny are three beings who can sense this.   
The Death Eaters almost killed him and he hasn't fully recovered his strength. But Moody is right, too.   
Argus is stronger than he looks. He's not planning to die any time soon. The old grump would be   
flattered (and surprised) that someone as nice as RioRaptor would worry about his health.  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Neville still finds it difficult to stand up for himself. But if he thinks that Snape is   
picking on Filch again, anything's possible.  
  
I like Neville and Ginny; they were chosen for a couple of reasons... they're less written about than Harry,   
Ron and Hermione (though Ginny is the heroine of quite a lot of stories) and, based on what we know   
about them from canon, they were the most likely to have reacted with Filch in interesting ways.  
  
Poor Snape... he knows that the vine-beast was meant to attack the Slytherins specifically. He feels very   
deeply violated.   
  
Learning how to use the Doors will eventually make Filch less bitter. He will also gain, against his will, a   
lot more understanding of what the students have to go through. He will be annoyed about this, since he'd   
rather just despise the brats.  
  
Arcee: Thank you!! It was fun writing wrung-out Snape.  
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!! Yes, exactly! The vine-beast hit the Slytherins much closer to home than   
anyone else in the Castle!  
  
Zebee: Thank you!! Poor Snape was in shock... one of his Slytherins had nearly been killed in the corridor   
outside his office; a place he thought was safe enough for her.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, Filch is very lucky that Snape let him get away with that "save." On the   
other hand, Snape -who never apologizes- did feel terrible about what his protective curse had done to   
poor Filch, who was only in Snape's office as a favor.  
  
The Morgan sisters, Lilith and Gehenna, are sort of like the Slytherin's answer to the brothers Creevy.   
They're not Muggle-borns, but they are very tiny. They're both big-eyed, quiet girls. Gehenna loves   
Potions and wants to study Alchemy. Lilith is going to grow up to write wickedly satirical plays.  
  
"Eating off the mantelpiece" is a term I've seen in old books, to describe a character who is unable to sit   
down for some reason. I guess a mantelpiece must the right height to be used as a table by someone who   
has to eat standing up. Which poor Filch had to do for several days following his encounter with Snape's   
curse-of-the-quills.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!   
  
Teluekh: Thank you!! You haven't started posting this story yet, have you? I'd love to read it!!  
  
Alys Landale: Thank you!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
9 


	3. An Abuse of Power

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 3: An Abuse of Power  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
All my life, I had longed for some magic to call my own. Just a little bit would have made me   
happy. (All right, I would have been happier with a *lot* of magic, but beggars can't be choosers. And,   
even a little bit is better than no magic at all, isn't it?)  
  
But, even a little bit of magic can cause harm. Even a little bit of magic can be abused.  
  
I ought to be grateful that my Doors were only minor magic. A helpful way to get from one place   
to another, within the Castle. A very small power. For a very small man.  
  
Professor Snape hadn't seen it that way. "Terrible danger," he'd said. "To Argus, and from him."  
  
Poor Severus had been concerned about the damage I might be forced to do, as a helpless tool of   
the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.  
  
Funny, even when he was picturing me as a potential threat, he still saw me as `helpless.' A   
pawn of wizards more powerful than I was.  
  
Yes, it was very funny...  
  
I moved zombie-like through the front ward of the hospital wing, carefully cleaning up the mess.   
There was vomit everywhere. Vomit streaked with blood.  
  
Mop inserted in pail. Mop wrung out. Mop moving across floor in slow, serpentine patterns.   
Wiping out the mess. Another stain, gone. The floor would be clean soon.  
  
I felt as if I'd never be clean again.   
  
Mop inserted in pail. Mop wrung out. Mop moving across floor.  
  
Again.  
  
When I finished with the floor, I'd have to start scrubbing the walls.  
  
"The joke's on you, isn't it, Professor," I thought. "I wasn't acting under anyone's control but my   
own."  
  
The sound I made wasn't much like a laugh. And my face was wet with tears.  
  
******  
  
Poppy was still in the far ward, tending to Severus, when I'd finished cleaning up the mess. She   
generally reserved the back ward for ill or injured staff members. It was more private.  
  
I didn't have the nerve to go back there and ask her how he was. But I couldn't leave until I   
found out.  
  
Putting my back against the wall, I slid down to the floor. Rocking forward and back helped to   
keep my mind blank, the same way that mopping and scrubbing had done. I didn't want to think about   
what I'd done to Professor Snape.  
  
"Argus?"   
  
Dully, I looked up to see the Headmaster standing in front of me. His face, usually mild and   
humorous, looked grave.  
  
Poppy must have called him, through the ward's fireplace.  
  
"Is he all right...?" I asked.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Severus is sleeping now."  
  
Relieved, but not comforted, I rested my head against my knees. I wasn't guilty of murder, but I   
was still guilty.  
  
"Tell me what happened, Argus," the Headmaster said, quietly.  
  
"I pulled Professor Snape through one of my Doors," I said, miserably. "I thought that he would   
only get sick, like Neville and Ginny did. I-I didn't know... I didn't know he would react like *that*..."  
  
The memory of Severus, retching violently, his nose bleeding, his body curled up in helpless   
agony, rose in my mind. I saw him convulsing on the floor, unable to breath. Choking on the blood and   
the vomit, his skin nearly blue...  
  
"I didn't know the Founder's spells would hit him so hard..." I whispered, shutting my eyes.  
  
No one else at Hogwarts could get into the Doors, unless I took them through. The Founders   
hadn't taken Squibs into account, when creating their protective spells. I'd taken Ginny Weasley and   
Neville Longbottom through a Door, to save their lives. They'd been terribly sick for a few very long   
minutes afterwards, but they'd recovered.  
  
The Doors' effects on an adult wizard were apparently much, much worse. That possibility had   
honestly never occurred to me.   
  
That was still no excuse for what I'd done.  
  
"Poppy was right there when we came through into the hospital ward. Without her, Professor   
Snape would have died..." I said.  
  
"Why did you pull Severus into the Door?" Dumbledore asked me.  
  
Too ashamed to meet his eyes, I whispered, "he made me angry, Headmaster. I lost my temper   
with him."  
  
******  
  
The day that was ending so badly, had begun badly too.  
  
The night before, I'd fallen asleep at my desk, trying to catch up on some paperwork. Assigning   
detentions was a simple matter these days, with so many cleaning jobs still to be done, both in the various   
parts of the dungeons and in the trophy room.   
  
There was a stack of detention forms on my desk, incomplete, except for the students' names. I'd   
been meaning to finish them and file them away, for days now. Instead, I had put my head down on them   
and fallen asleep.  
  
I'd only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes.  
  
Some people don't need much sleep. I've always been lucky enough to be one of them. But, even   
I needed more rest than I'd been getting lately. Within moments I was slumbering as deeply as if I'd been   
given a sleeping draught.  
  
Vaguely, I recalled Mrs. Norris purring loudly in my ear and poking at me with her claws.   
Unable to wake me, she decided to join me. Cats can sleep comfortably anywhere.  
  
Humans aren't so fortunate. And, for the record, a stack of parchment makes a dreadful pillow.   
Very bad for the neck.   
  
When I woke up, it was late morning. My neck felt like some one had been using it for a bludger   
bat. My mouth and nose felt full of cat fur. Someone was shouting my name from my fireplace.  
  
"Filch! Curse you! Wake up!"  
  
"Professor Snape...?" I said, dazedly.  
  
"Finally." He sneered. "Come at once to the corridor in front of the Potions classroom. Bring   
your tools and a ladder! We'll see about this!" The professor added, to someone I couldn't see. Then his   
head disappeared from my fireplace, with a pop.   
  
Stiff and hobbling, my spine feeling as twisted as a strand of Devil's Snare, I did as he told me.  
  
Mrs. Norris, still curled up, enjoying her catnap on my desk, didn't stir.  
  
Snape was waiting for me in the corridor outside his classroom. His students; a class of fifth year   
Gryffindors and Slytherins, were with him.  
  
Tension was thick in the air. The Slytherin students were clustered around Professor Snape. The   
Gryffindors stood apart from them, surrounding Neville Longbottom. It looked like battle lines had been   
drawn.  
  
Neville's round, usually cheerful, face was as white as ashes. But the boy stood up straight, with   
his eyes locked on Professor Snape's.  
  
I wanted to ask Neville what was wrong, but I didn't want to say or do anything that might make   
Snape even angrier with my young friend then he was already.  
  
"What did you want me to do, Professor?" I said, instead.  
  
"It seems," Snape said, sneering the grandfather of all sneers, "that Mr. Longbottom has gotten a   
case of the vapors. He is claiming that he can actually sense more of those hideous vines somewhere in   
this corridor!"  
  
He gave Neville a look that was pure venom. "I want you to check out his story and discover if he   
is lying and wasting my time!"  
  
"...*and* trying to give my Slytherins more nightmares!" His tone said, plainly.   
  
The children of both Houses only heard his fury. But I heard the fear under it. I knew that he was   
afraid for his Slytherins.  
  
Professor Sprout had warned everyone that ridding the dungeons of the last bits of the vine-  
creature could take a long while. New vine growths appeared to be taking root, in unexpected places down   
in the dungeons. Everyone at Hogwarts knew that the vine-creature's "brain" was dead, and that the new   
vine growths could be dealt with easily as soon as they were found. Life at the Castle was slowly getting   
back to normal. But the Slytherins were all edgy. Many of them, especially the younger ones, weren't   
sleeping well.   
  
Perhaps it was understandable that some of the children in the other three houses were teasing   
the Slytherins. Danger had stalked the Castle halls in the past, but none of the students could remember   
the last time that the Slytherins had been its primary target.  
  
Neville wasn't one of the ones who teased. No matter what Severus thought of him, Neville   
would never do such a thing.  
  
Ignoring Snape's tone, I turned at once to Neville. "Where?" I asked him.  
  
"The ceiling.... I think..." Neville told me. "I'm not sure exactly where."  
  
"Go on and look then." I said. "When you find it, show me."  
  
Potter, Weasley, Granger, Thomas, Brown, Patil and Finnegan all relaxed when they saw that I   
clearly believed Neville. Well, of course I believed him. Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley were the   
only students to have fought the vine beast, and they'd acquitted themselves as bravely as any of the   
professors. If Neville said he could sense the vines, then he could sense them.  
  
Neville moved his wand slowly, the tip pointed up at the stones in the ceiling. He walked   
cautiously down the corridor, sweeping the wand back and forth.  
  
"Longbottom!" Severus said in a cold voice, "You have already lost fifty points for Gryffindor,   
because of your cheek! Would you care to lose any *more* points? Hurry up with your foolishness!!"  
  
Poor Severus. He wanted so much to keep his children safe. He felt helpless, a feeling that he   
utterly loathed. He would be furious with Neville for wasting his time, if the boy was wrong about the   
vines. But he'd be even angrier if Neville turned out to be right. No wonder Snape was in such a foul   
temper.  
  
My heart sank when I heard the amount of points that Severus had taken from Gryffindor. Fifty   
points was the exact number I'd awarded to Neville and Ginny, for their bravery against the vines. I   
should have known that he wasn't going to just let that go.  
  
(I supposed I ought to be grateful that Snape had waited until I was recovered from the injuries   
inflicted by his protective curse, before he started looking for an opportunity to get some of his own back.)   
  
I blamed myself for the lost points. Snape ought to be angry with me over that, not with poor   
Neville.  
  
"Please, Professor..." It was Hermione Granger. Like most Gryffindors, she tends to choose valor   
over discretion.   
  
"It's not foolishness," she said, earnestly. "Neville's been doing extra credit with Professor   
Sprout and her seventh-years. They've been working on spells that will help them sense the vines while   
they're still small and dormant. Neville's spent hours, practicing..."  
  
Snape gave her one of his most caustic glares.   
  
"Do you really expect me to believe that Longbottom is capable of such advanced Herbology   
study?" He sneered.  
  
Hermione was speechless with anger for a moment.  
  
Draco Malfoy's drawling voice filled the silence. "If Sprout were as capable as all that, we'd be   
rid of the vines already. Maybe it's taking her so long to destroy the things, because she depends on   
Hufflepuffs and Squibs for help!" he said, disparagingly.   
  
His voice, an adolescent echo of his father's cultured drawl, could send shivers of fear down my   
spine. The sight of Draco, and his cronies; Crabbe and Goyle, still made me feel sick with anger. The   
contempt that young Malfoy managed to put into his words defied description. I bit my tongue until I   
tasted blood, to keep myself from saying anything to him.  
  
I had no pity for Draco and his two friends, but I could still feel for the other Slytherins. All of   
them looked scared. Just when they thought that their dungeons were finally safe again, someone had   
raised the specter of more vines.  
  
"Without Sprout and her Hufflepuffs going over the dungeons regularly, Malfoy, you'd be   
covered in those vines, right up to your scaly..." Ron Weasley didn't get to finish his sentence. Hermione   
had poked him in the stomach. She didn't want him getting in trouble.  
  
Still, he'd gotten his point across well enough.   
  
Luckily, before tensions could rise any higher, Neville gave a shout. "Over here, Mr. Filch."  
  
Placing the ladder under the area of ceiling he was indicating, I climbed up to examine the   
stones. I could see one that was cracked, with pieces loose. Wiggling one of the smaller pieces, I was able   
to wrench it free.  
  
"I need a light..." I said.   
  
Immediately, the air around me was filled with little floating lights. I felt as if I were standing in   
a cloud of magic. An instant later all of us could smell the foul odor of the vines as they reacted to the   
magic lights.  
  
"Everyone, back!" Face white, Professor Snape moved swiftly between the ladder and all the   
children; both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Just as he did, a tendril of vine, thin as a wire, whipped out from   
the ceiling like a tiny, deadly snake, towards his head.  
  
Without its brain, the vines had lost the defense mechanism which had prevented them from   
attacking prey that was obviously too powerful for them to handle. It made the bits and pieces much easier   
to deal with.  
  
All the children either flinched or cried out as I grabbed the vine with my bare hands before it   
could touch Severus. The vine would have given any of them terrible burns if they'd tried that. Painful   
burns that healed very slowly. Neville's right arm was still in a sling. Professor Snape's hands were still   
bandaged. They were fortunate, compared to little Gehenna Morgan, who was still in the hospital wing,   
with burns on her throat.   
  
But the small quantities of magic I possessed weren't enough to get that kind of reaction from the   
vines. I could touch them safely.  
  
"You'd better send someone for Professor Sprout..." I said to Severus, the vine still wrapped   
around my hand. "I think there could be a lot more of them in there."  
  
"Draco... go to the Greenhouses and find Professor Sprout," Snape said. "The rest of you, go into   
the classroom, where it's safe!  
  
Draco, apparently having forgotten his earlier comments about Sprout and the Hufflepuffs, left at   
a run.  
  
As pale as Severus, the other Slytherins began filing into the Potions lab. The Gryffindors, only   
slightly less pale, lingered behind.  
  
"Neville was right, Professor. About the vines." I could tell that Ron Weasley was trying hard to   
be as respectful as possible.  
  
"Gryffindor lost fifty points..." Seamus Finnegan pointed out. He was also trying to be polite.  
  
I could have told them that they were wasting their breath, trying to get their points back. But it   
wouldn't have done any good. As a rule, telling Gryffindors that they are behaving recklessly will only   
encourage them.  
  
"You should all be grateful that I didn't take away even more!" Severus snarled.   
  
I didn't know who I felt sorrier for. The poor Gryffindors, angry over their Professor's blatant   
unfairness, or poor Severus, who was faced with a seemingly endless nightmare invasion of his dungeons.   
He was angry, feeling helpless and lashing out at the only targets available to him.  
  
"It's all right," Harry Potter said, quietly, to Neville, who looked stricken. "Don't worry about the   
points. You were right, and we all know it. That's more important."  
  
Now I knew who I felt sorriest for.  
  
Potter.   
  
That boy had an uncanny gift for angering Severus.  
  
Now Snape looked ready to take away every point Gryffindor had earned since the beginning of   
the term. Either that, or simply feed poor Potter to the vines.  
  
"Professor...?" I said, plaintively, to distract him. "Would you mind getting this vine off my   
hand?"  
  
Glowering, his wand balanced carefully in his bandaged fingers, he moved towards me.   
  
I gulped, realizing how stupid I'd been. Considering the mood Snape was in, I had visions of him   
shouting "INCENDIO!" and blasting my whole hand clean off.   
  
Snape might be seething, but his control over his magic was as excellent as ever. His spell, slow   
and careful, burned the vine tendril, without touching my skin.  
  
It took both Severus and me a moment to realize that the young Gryffindors were still watching   
us. I was not used to having the students at Hogwarts see me as anything more than a bad-tempered old   
man who took delight in making their lives miserable. But the whole pride of young lions was looking at   
me, anxiously, evidently standing guard to make sure that Professor Snape would do me no harm.  
  
Very softly, I murmured to Severus, "Don't shout at them. It's your own fault. Thanks to the trick   
you and the Headmaster played on Peeves, and those damn protective curses in your office, they all think   
you've given me two beatings in the past month."  
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake...!" Severus hissed at me. He turned and gave the Gryffindors a look that   
a Basilisk would be proud to own. "I'm not going to damage him," he snarled. "Someone has to clean up   
the mess in my corridor when Professor Sprout is through!"  
  
Hermione Granger's pale face began to grow red with anger. "Professor Snape, sir," she cried,   
"that's the most appalling...!"  
  
"Ten more points from Gryffindor!" Severus snarled. "Shall I make it twenty? Into the   
classroom!" He glowered at the children until they obeyed him. Neville was the last one to leave the   
corridor. The worried look on his face made me feel dreadful.  
  
Severus continued to snarl imprecations against the Gryffindors under his breath. I couldn't hear   
most of what he said. But I did catch the names "Potter" and "Longbottom."  
  
I rubbed my hand, now free of the vines.  
  
"Professor," I pleaded with him, trying to get the circulation back into my fingers, "Just let it go.   
Isn't sixty points revenge enough?"  
  
"Let it go?" His dark eyes narrowed. "You're a fine one to talk about lettings things "go," Filch!   
When have you *ever* managed to do that? You, with your filing cabinets filled up with every petty, little   
grievance you've encountered here in the castle for the past thirty years or so?"  
  
I had half-expected him to lash out at me. Better me than the children. I had not expected him to   
attack me in such a personal way! I was shocked into silence, the way Hermione had been, earlier. All I   
could do was stare at him.  
  
"Wait here for Professor Sprout!" Snape ordered me. His satisfaction, at how well his barb had   
drawn blood, was almost palpable. Then he turned on his heel and went into his classroom, slamming the   
door.  
  
******  
  
It took a while for Sprout to dig out the vine infestation that Neville had discovered.. She finished   
working just before dinner and I didn't get a chance to start cleaning up the corridor outside Snape's   
office until after dinner.  
  
I was back on the ladder, patching up the cracks in the ceiling stones when Snape came out into   
the corridor.  
  
"Professor." I said, not looking at him.  
  
"Filch." He snarled.   
  
I gritted my teeth. All right, it wasn't as if I'd been expecting an apology, or anything like that.   
I'd known Severus since he was eleven years old. He had an abundance of regrets, and he carried them all   
deep inside, where their sharp edges could cut him to pieces. He'd never been one to apologize.  
  
He was quite correct about the way I could nurse a grievance. I knew full well that I collected   
them, counted them and pored over them lovingly, like a Goblin with a pile of gold. That's the way I am.   
Sometimes I've felt that my grievances are all that I really have to call my own.  
  
This morning's incident had troubled me all day, so I had a heap of new grievances to nurse.   
Different aspects of what had happened had all taken their turns upsetting me. Severus had called Neville   
a liar, and he'd slighted his abilities at Herbology! Neville was brilliant at Herbology! Anyone who   
doubted that was simply being spiteful.   
  
Then there was the fact that the only fifty points that I'd ever given to any house had been coldly   
taken away, with ten more points to keep them company! And there were Draco's rude comments about   
Professor Sprout, which had gone unchallenged by anyone, except Ron Weasley! Severus really ought to   
have insisted on his students showing respect for his fellow professor. Especially since she was working so   
hard to keep them safe!  
  
There were other things too. The expression on Hermione Granger's face when Snape had   
snapped that he wouldn't hurt me because then I wouldn't be able to clean up his corridor, truly rankled.   
I'd seen Granger's "save the house elves" look before, but not directed at ME. It was humiliating! It was   
bad enough that the brats in the Castle sometimes thought of me as a sort of jumped-up house elf. When   
the good ones started doing that, and pitying me... well!  
  
(I knew that Granger was really a good child at heart, despite the fact that she'd fallen in with the   
wrong companions during her first year, and had been a troublemaker ever since. She was one of only two   
students who'd ever come down to my office and asked to see my List of Objects Forbidden Inside the   
Castle.)  
  
And then, there was Severus's expression of contempt when he'd made his remark about the way   
I nursed grievances. As well as his satisfaction when he'd seen how the remark had hurt me. Those   
particular thoughts ran themselves over and over in my mind. I patched the ceiling with an almost savage   
ferocity, so intent on mulling over my new collection of "petty grievances" that I almost didn't hear   
Snape when he spoke to me.  
  
"...Never be rid of those cursed things! When you're finished with the ceiling, I want you to go   
and fetch Longbottom. Have him do that... trick of his again. Make certain that this part of the dungeons   
are really clean now!"  
  
My very real sympathy for Professor Snape, and his continuing fear for the children of Slytherin   
had retreated to the back of my mind. I couldn't believe his nerve!  
  
Teeth still gritted, I snarled, "Professor Sprout told everyone that there's no way yet to really   
detect the vines before they've actually taken root somewhere! Weren't you listening, Professor? If there   
were any more vines growing here, at this very moment, then she or Neville would have been able to sense   
them already!"  
  
My patch-up job on the ceiling finished, albeit somewhat more sloppily than my usual neat work,   
I climbed down from the ladder to face him.  
  
"I will certainly not go and drag Neville away from whatever else he's doing. I doubt he'd want   
to help you, anyhow, after the way you spoke to him this morning! Not to mention those points you took   
from Gryffindor, for no reason except your own childish pique!"  
  
He glared at me, his black eyes smoldering like coals about to burst into flame at any moment.  
  
"What did you say to me, Filch, you petty, little man?"  
  
Usually, that tone in his voice, like a column of fire burning brightly inside a pillar of ice, would   
have sent me into a full retreat. But not now. I matched him, glare for glare.  
  
Poor Severus. First Neville had started standing up to him, and now I was doing the same thing.   
He must have felt as if his world were crumbling.  
  
I didn't care. All my life I had walked, small and bitter, among the wizards who surrounded me.   
What choice did I have? I'm a Squib, I'm useless, I'm nothing.  
  
Alastor Moody had told me that I must stop thinking of myself in that way. It was difficult to   
change the attitudes of a lifetime, but I was trying very hard.  
  
I knew that Severus had incredible pressures on him. He was living a dangerous double life as   
one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, and as Dumbledore's spy. He still had the heavy responsibilities of   
his lessons and his students. And, as the Head of Slytherin House, he had all his children to look after too.   
There were Dark things he couldn't protect some of his children from, a fact that broke his heart, over   
and over again.  
  
So many things beyond his control, so many things that left him feeling as lost and helpless as I   
ever had. And now, those foul vines had invaded his dungeons to haunt his children's dreams. My heart   
ached for Severus, but he'd made me so furious that I no longer cared. I was tired of being one of the few   
"safe" targets for Severus Snape's anger.  
  
"You heard me, Professor! I'm not getting Neville for you. Not even if you promise to apologize   
to him for your behavior this morning, on bended knee. Not even if you were to give Gryffindor one   
hundred points into the bargain!"  
  
We stood, practically nose to nose. He's tall enough to loom over me, and he used his height to   
its best effect.  
  
"You... pathetic little wretch!" Snape hissed at me. "Consider yourself fortunate that you are a   
Squib."  
  
"If I was a proper wizard then you would duel with me?" I shot back. "*You* should consider   
yourself fortunate that I'm a Squib! If I could I'd...!"  
  
He laughed then, a cold, bitter laugh that sent chills down my spine, in spite of my anger. "A   
Wizard's duel with you would be quite amusing, Filch. The most fun I've had in years."  
  
"Really..." I hissed. "How about it, then? Here and now!"  
  
He laughed again, derisively. "Finish cleaning up this mess, and get yourself to bed. And be   
grateful that I have too much self control to take advantage of your momentary lapse of reason."  
  
"Self control!" I was so enraged that my voice squeaked. "Ask Neville if you have any self   
control! Or ask Potter! You're lucky that the Headmaster doesn't keep you away from them, the way he   
won't let me near Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle!"  
  
The barbs that hurt the most are the ones which hold the most truth.   
  
Pain showed briefly in Snape's eyes before he managed to hide his expression.  
  
Too furious to enjoy my triumph, I focused and called one of my Doors. It was the green-and-  
silver one that came. (Later, I realized that this was probably fortunate. A trip through any of the other   
three Doors might have come even closer to killing him.)  
  
I was so angry that I was just going to leave this mess until tomorrow. As I was stepping through   
the Door, Professor Snape grabbed my arm.  
  
"Filch," he said. "Wait."  
  
I do not know what Snape meant to do. Threaten me, insult me, or perhaps even apologize, for   
the first time in his life. I didn't give him a chance to do anything. Responding as if I were being attacked,   
I pulled him forward, so that we stood side by side. And then, taking him with me, I stepped into my   
Door.  
  
******  
  
I looked up into Dumbledore's stern blue eyes.  
  
"That's what happened," I said, miserably. "I didn't expect it to nearly kill him. That's no   
excuse. I'm sorry, Headmaster."  
  
Desolate, sick at heart, I waited to hear what Dumbledore would say to me.  
  
END OF CHAPTER THREE  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! I'm going to read your Tom Riddle story as soon as I post this chapter!  
  
Hpfan: Thank you!!  
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!! More Snape in this chapter. This was my first try at writing him in Total Bastard   
Mode. I'm not sure how well I succeeded. You're right; Snape did not intend to allow Filch to get away   
with awarding Gryffindor all those points. He was waiting for Filch's wounds to heal before he took his   
pound of flesh.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Was that incredibly good story with Will and his mother posted before?   
According to the date, it's been up for a while, but I only noticed it a couple of days ago. Awesome story!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! I like Moody too. He's fun to write. Snape's comment about Sprout and her Badgers   
wasn't meant as disrespectfully as it sounded. Just as everyone at Hogwarts comes to Snape with anything   
that has to do with potions, everyone in the castle comes to Sprout, with everything plant-related.   
  
Sprout and her prize Herbology students (who aren't all Hufflepuffs, since Neville is among them) are the   
experts at vine-detecting and eliminating. Snape was only giving Sprout her due.   
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! Thank you!! Yes, you were my first review for the second chapter! I   
did follow your link to "The Fire You Touch." I've started reading it. Excellent story!  
  
Albus did consider Remus Lupin, but decided that Moody was a better choice. Moody and Filch don't   
have a history. Remus was -gasp- a MARAUDER! It would be almost like asking Filch to learn self-  
defense from Fred and George! (Of course, at the moment Filch feels so terrible about what he's done to   
poor Severus, that he'd willingly take self-defense lessons from Peeves...)  
  
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11 


	4. Punishment

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma   
a sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 4: Punishment   
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"Stand up, Argus." Dumbledore said.   
  
I'd been braced for his condemnation. For his slow-to-waken, terrifying and rarely seen anger.   
But the Headmaster's voice was gentle. His eyes, when I looked up to meet them, were sorrowful.  
  
I was too shocked and numb to stand up. I'd just confessed to the near-murder of one of his   
professors! In his place I knew that I'd already be getting out the manacles and the chains.   
  
When I did nothing except stare in bewilderment, he reached down and carefully pulled me up   
from the floor. Moving me across the hospital wing towards a chair, he asked,  
  
"Did you originally intend to bring Severus here, to Poppy?"  
  
"N-no... I was going to drag him through the Door into the staff bathroom in the dungeons... I   
knew he was going to get sick.. and... I thought he'd want to clean himself up, afterwards. And the   
bathroom floor would have been easy for me to clean..." my voice trailed off, in misery.   
  
Severus had made me furious. I'd meant to strike back at him, to teach him a lesson, but I hadn't   
wanted anyone else in the Castle to see him wretchedly spewing his guts out. Giving Snape a chance to   
recover in private had been my original plan.   
  
And, yes, perhaps (I confessed to myself) I would have enjoyed gloating at him a bit too, while he   
was recovering. All right, probably more than just "a bit." Gloating is one of my few, real pleasures in   
life. That, and my treasured, carefully filed, collection of "petty grievances."  
  
"This was an ordeal for Neville and Ginny, too, and they both managed it very bravely, with far   
less complaining!" I would have said.  
  
I shivered. So much for my original plan. Poor Professor Snape's reaction to a journey through   
the Squib Door had been far more terrible than anything I'd anticipated.   
  
"When I first pulled him into the Door, he made the most horrible sound," I told Dumbledore.   
"As if he wanted to scream, but he couldn't breathe. I wanted to pull him back out at once. But there was   
too much ...resistance behind us. So I had to keep moving us forward."   
  
My trembling increased, as I remembered that nightmarish journey. I'd had my arm wrapped   
around Severus's chest and I recalled the fast, frantic beating of his heart. Like the rapidly fluttering   
wings of a snidget, beneath the thin cage of his ribs. My struggle to get Neville and Ginny through the   
Door had been nothing compared to my journey with poor Snape. It had been like battling against a river   
current, through water nearly up to my neck, carrying a thrashing, drowning man in my arms.  
  
'I don't remember even asking the Door to take us to the hospital wing instead. When we finally   
came out, I was surprised, for a second or two, to see Poppy there. But then... Severus... he..."  
  
Even with my eyes tightly shut, I could still see Professor Snape, convulsing on the floor in   
helpless agony. I'd never seen anyone being so horribly, mercilessly sick. His skin had been waxy and   
blue, and his nose had been bleeding profusely. Blood and vomit, everywhere. Poor, poor Severus.  
  
My eyes closed, my body rocking forward and back in my chair, I didn't realize that the   
Headmaster had moved until I felt the blanket that he was wrapping around me.  
  
"No!" I protested, miserably. "Headmaster... stop. I've done something terrible! Poor Severus   
could have died! A-aren't you going to *do* something to me, punish me?"  
  
"Argus." His voice was terribly sad. "What would you have me do?"  
  
I couldn't believe that he was unable to come up with something appropriate on his own. "Take   
me into the Forbidden Forest and leave me there, alone, chained to a tree all night!" I blurted out the first   
possibility that came to mind. "I'd deserve that!"  
  
"There'd be nothing left of you." Dumbledore said, firmly, shaking his head. "Out of the   
question."  
  
"Then there's the chains in my office and plenty of dungeon space," I said.  
  
"With all the work to be done in the Castle, I cannot afford to keep our caretaker chained up in   
the dungeons." A wry note had crept into the Headmaster's voice. "We've had this discussion before,   
many times. No one here in the Castle is going to be clapped in chains. Not the students, and not the staff.   
No matter how richly you may feel that such treatment is deserved."   
  
I stared at him in disbelief.  
  
"All right," I said, harshly. "Old Pringle had other things besides those chains you never let me   
use. He had a cat o' nine tails... it's still in the desk, exactly where he left it. I've never mentioned it to   
you, since you've never seen reason on the matter of the chains. You could use it on me."  
  
Dumbledore sounded grave and serious again, any trace of humor gone from his voice. He   
sounded sickened as well. "No. There has already been too much pain tonight. Adding more will not   
change a single thing that has happened."  
  
I wailed in frustration. The Headmaster and I have never seen eye to eye on the matter of   
punishment. "Please... " I cried, "please, Professor Dumbledore, you have to do *something.* For   
Severus's sake... for pity's sake..." I couldn't say any more, I was weeping.  
  
Dumbledore said wearily, "Oh, Argus. The point of punishing someone for a misdeed is the hope   
that the culprit will understand that what they have done was wrong. That they will repent, feel true   
regret, and never repeat the misdeed again."  
  
"No...!" I cried. "Repentance isn't enough! Regret isn't enough, without suffering..."  
  
"But, you are already suffering." Now he sounded as frustrated as I felt.   
  
"If you did not understand the seriousness of what could have happened," Dumbledore continued,   
"if you had not told me the truth, if you'd lied or made excuses, or tried to put the blame on poor   
Severus... that would be different. If..." his voice grew very soft, "if... we h-had ...lost Severus... that   
would be another matter entirely." Dumbledore stopped, unable to speak, the blue eyes behind his glasses   
full of deep sorrow. He looked like a father who had nearly lost a child.  
  
The Headmaster cared very deeply for Severus Snape, and the Potions Master counted Albus   
Dumbledore as one of his very few real friends. I'd known that for years. Recently, I'd seen them laughing   
together like children. Even if I hadn't known how strong the bond between the two men was, the catch in   
Dumbledore's voice, the look in his eyes, would have told me.  
  
My heart felt full of thorns. "Please..." I whispered. "You have to do something to me...   
something terrible." Inspiration struck. "Severus will be upset if you don't. You know how he gets..."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, I do know. You and that poor boy are a perfectly matched set!" He   
sighed again, heavily. "It's enough to make my pull out my beard, sometimes. Argus, what would you   
have me do to you? Is there anything I could do that would make you feel worse than you already feel?"  
  
I nodded. Alastor Moody had been teaching me to use my strengths, and coming up with   
punishments was certainly one of them. "My Doors." I said in, a very small voice. "You should forbid me   
to use them. Ever again." I took a deep breath and continued, my voice a little stronger. "Then you could   
report me to the Ministry. For abusing my magic."  
  
"Argus...." Dumbledore was shaking his head, seemingly caught between tears and laughter.   
"What magic? You are a Squib. According to the Ministry, you have no magic to abuse. The Doors are a   
secret that I feel it would be prudent to keep from the Ministry, at least for the present. And I will not   
forbid you to use them."  
  
He frowned at me, to forestall my cry of protest. "What happened tonight was very terrible, but it   
has made me realize what a truly formidable defense those Doors of yours can be. Hogwarts needs every   
available bit of defensive magic that everyone here, including you, can muster. You know that."  
  
"Besides, Alastor is enjoying his lessons with you. He's told me about the two of you chasing   
each other all around the Castle, nearly till sunrise. He's pleased with your progress."  
  
That last statement had been a gentle attempt to comfort me, because I was weeping harder than   
ever. He wasn't going to do anything to me! My pain and guilt were unbearable, overwhelming.   
  
"Headmaster, you don't understand...!"  
  
"I understand, far more than you realize," Dumbledore said quietly. "It isn't punishment you   
truly want from me, Argus. You want absolution, which is something far more complex. I do not know   
how I can grant it to you."  
  
"All right." I said, defeated, my head in my hands. "I'm sorry."  
  
Then inspiration struck again. "Severus!" I said. "Headmaster, when he recovers, let Severus   
himself decide what to do with me!"  
  
"Oh..." Dumbledore said. "Argus... that is truly not a good idea. Believe me, it's not."   
  
"B-but...!" I stammered. "It's perfect..."  
  
"Hush!" The Headmaster sighed and frowned.   
  
He handed me a handkerchief to use, before continuing. "All right. Here is my punishment for   
you. You will apologize to Severus. Over and over again, until he is heartily sick of hearing it. You will   
let him know, repeatedly, how much you regret what you have done. You will grovel shamelessly at his   
feet, begging for his forgiveness."  
  
"I'm going to do all that anyhow!" I cried.  
  
"I know," Dumbledore said, very dryly. "There's more. You will be very, very patient with   
Severus." A flash of an old pain crossed his face. "He will probably accuse you of pulling this as some sort   
of prank, ...a joke at his expense."  
  
Cut to the quick, I shook my head, eyes wide with anguish. "No... he mustn't think that, I never   
wanted to hurt him so badly..."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and studied me gently. "And, when he does, you must look at him, exactly   
like that."  
  
"Headmaster, none of this is going to give me what I need. You know I'm going to do every   
single one of those things and it's not going to help at all! You can't grant me absolution, and I don't   
know how to find it on my own! But Severus could find some way. I know he could, and he deserves the   
chance. Please reconsider, please..."  
  
I'm nothing if not tenacious. The Headmaster himself had sometimes compared my persistence to   
an endless series of water droplets, wearing away a stone basin.  
  
(Unbidden, a memory came to mind, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Dumbledore had   
never allowed me to chain anyone up, but during Severus's childhood in the Castle, there had been four   
incorrigible brats who'd called themselves Marauders. During their third year, after an especially horrid   
prank involving fireworks and the toilet in my office bathroom, I'd been given permission to place the   
four of them in four different broom cupboards, in different parts of the Castle. Each cupboard had one   
thing in common; an especially drippy water tap.  
  
Listening to the endless dripping of water for a few hours can be quite an effective punishment.   
Little Pettigrew had been in tears when I'd finally let him out. Lupin had been white as a ghost, his nails   
chewed to ragged stumps. Both Black and Potter had emerged drenched. They'd attempted to stop the   
leaks and had managed to flood their respective cupboards. They'd looked so wretched that I didn't even   
mind cleaning up the additional mess.)  
  
There's a difference between outright torture and justly deserved punishment, though the line is   
very fine, sometimes. Severus Snape was one of the few people, besides myself who understood that.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Poor Severus will be unable to do anything for the next few days, except   
stay quietly in bed. He's very, very ill."  
  
I winced as if he'd struck me.  
  
"When he's recovered enough, I'll discuss this with him. After we talk, I'll make my decision."  
  
"All right." I said, morosely. It was the best I was going to get.  
  
The Headmaster and I heard a soft sound. We looked up.  
  
Mrs. Norris was suddenly there, leaping up onto my lap. The look in her golden eyes said plainly   
that she didn't know what she was going to do with me. She'd only let me out of her sight for a short   
time, and look what trouble I had gotten myself into!   
  
I held her tightly. My life has been a bitter one, and she's often been my only real comfort.   
Despite all my faults, my lack of magic, (not to mention my similar lack of charm, good looks, or almost   
any sort of redeeming qualities whatsoever) I had a cat who truly loved me.  
  
The Headmaster left me in her capable paws while he went to the back ward to check on Severus   
again.  
  
Dumbledore was back in a few moments, looking more cheerful. "Poppy has said that you should   
come and see him now. He seems to be resting more comfortably. He doesn't keep waking up to be sick   
any longer. She's finally gotten him to keep the sleeping draught down long enough for it to work."  
  
Cuddling Mrs. Norris, with the blanket still around my shoulders, I followed the Headmaster.  
  
Severus lay curled up on his side, lank black hair spread out on a pillow only a little less pale   
than his thin face. One arm was flung up, over his head. One bandaged hand dangled over the side of his   
bed. He was breathing in gasps, like a child that had cried himself to sleep.  
  
To the Headmaster, Poppy and me, he looked like an ill and vulnerable child. Hardly older than   
the small Slytherin girl who sat perched on the bed next to his, with bandages around her throat.  
  
"Gehenna has been helping me look after the Professor," Poppy said fondly, ruffling the child's   
mousy hair.  
  
"He's going to be all right..." the girl said, softly, in a hoarse voice. "Madam Pomfrey says he's   
going to be fine." She gave Professor Snape a protective look, and I realized that Severus's strong feelings   
for his Slytherins were returned, in full, by his children.  
  
"I'm sorry, Gehenna..." I told her, miserably.  
  
"Why?" the girl asked me. "Madam Pomfrey said that he took sick very suddenly and you   
brought him here as fast as you could."   
  
Speechless, I stared at Poppy. I knew that my Doors were supposed to be a secret, though   
Dumbledore had now added Poppy to the "need to know" list.   
  
I didn't want to be thought of as a hero in this incident! The unfairness of that was unbearably   
painful!  
  
Madam Pomfrey met my gaze evenly. "Severus has been running himself completely ragged   
these past few months. He's been through so much." Her tone hinted at things she wouldn't say in front of   
Gehenna.  
  
Severus had endured the Cruciatus Curse, and his battle with the vine-creature had happened   
shortly afterwards. Ever since the creature had been killed, Snape had spent most of his time worrying and   
fretting over his children. He'd never eaten or slept enough, under the best circumstances. Even before I'd   
hurt him by pulling him through my Door, he'd looked exhausted and he'd been losing weight he couldn't   
afford to lose.   
  
Poppy answered my look of dismay with a firm expression. "He's exactly where he needs to be,"   
she said. "And he's going to rest here until he's well, whether he likes it or not."  
  
None of this was going to improve Snape's temper. When he finally recovered enough to talk to   
the Headmaster, and they decided what my punishment would be, it would be something truly awful.   
Well, good. That was what I wanted, wasn't it?  
  
I watched Severus sleeping for a while, grateful that he was still alive. Then Poppy ushered the   
Headmaster and me out of the room.  
  
"You'll tell me when he's well enough to talk..." I said. "Won't you? Please?"   
  
Dumbledore nodded.   
  
"Thank you," I said.  
  
With Mrs. Norris following at my heels, I headed back down to the dungeons. I still had some   
cleaning to do in the corridor outside Severus's classroom.  
  
END OF CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Bratkatze: Thank you!! Yes, Filch and Snape are a lot alike, yes, they are friends, and yes, they would   
never, ever admit it out loud, or even to themselves. Filch, the old grump, has no idea how much Snape   
respects him. Yup, Snape was very careful not to harm Filch when he took the vine off his hand. He also   
felt terrible about what his protective curses had done to the old man. (Though his amusement was real,   
too. The regret didn't kick in, till later.)   
  
I didn't go into this in "The Squib and the Death Eaters," but Snape was horrified at what Crabbe and   
Goyle, senior, had done to Filch. When Severus and Minerva brought Argus back to Hogwarts, Snape was   
carrying Argus wrapped up in his cloak, cradling him almost like he did with Gehenna Morgan. Filch   
will never know this. Minerva and Poppy, both perceptive women, saw, though. They know that the two   
men are friends.   
  
(The sight of Snape carrying a half-dead Filch, wrapped up in a bloody cloak, through the corridors of   
Hogwarts is what spooked the heck out of Peeves. The poltergeist was another witness.)  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, a trip through any of the other three Doors would have killed Severus outright.   
Salazar's Door spared his fellow Slytherin. Yes, the Doors will have an especially negative effect on poor   
Severus, because he's "tainted" by the Dark Mark. If Argus were to take any of the other Professors   
through the Doors, they would all get sicker than Neville and Ginny did, but they wouldn't nearly die, like   
Severus did. (If, eventually, this fact is discovered it will make poor Severus feel filthy.)  
  
Yes, Percy and Hermione are the two students who asked to see The List. :-)  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Another Filch Fan!! (I think he should have his own place in that list of   
characters, don't you?)  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! The vine was designed to go on being dangerous, even after it was dead.  
  
Mother Lion and Papa Snake are also accompanied by Sprout, the Badgermum, (to borrow an honorific   
from the Redwall books) who would defend her baby badgers with great ferocity! And Professor Vector   
(who, I think, is the Ravenclaw house-head) would be Mother Raven, wings spread protectively as she   
drops tidbits of knowledge into her babies' eager beaks. Come to think of it, has Rowling ever said what   
gender Professor Vector is? Maybe Professor Vector is Papa Raven?  
  
Your word-picture of Snape and Filch, behaving like two Uncle Scrooges with their collections of grudges   
and grievances, made me laugh out loud.   
  
Yes, you guessed it too! Percy was the other one!  
  
"Beaten by a Squib." Poor Snape, indeed. He's lucky that the Doors are a secret. But Filch wouldn't go   
around telling everyone in the Castle, even if he could. He feels too ashamed of what he did. (Filch is   
going to tell one student what happened. One of the two who know about the Doors. Not in a gloating   
way, though. More like in a "don't let him scare you, he gets frightened too, sometimes, so try to be   
patient with him, he suffers more than you know" sort of way. Poor Snape would *absolutely* kill Filch if   
he were to find out the identity of the one person Filch actually tells.)  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! Thank you!! Argus is safe, at least from the Headmaster. Dumbledore   
knows that he didn't mean to hurt the poor Potions Master.  
  
Utahraptors are neat!! My sons and I watched a special on them on TV.   
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!! Yes, if Filch were to pull a Slytherin Death Eater through any of the other three   
Doors, that Death Eater would die in agony moments after coming through. Salazar's Door wouldn't kill   
them as quickly, so a trained medi-witch like Pomfrey would be able to save them, if she were to reach   
them in time.  
  
Similarly, if Filch were to grab Wormtail and drag him through Godric's Door, the Rat would live long   
enough for help to reach him and he would have a chance to survive... unless, of course, Sirius were   
somewhere nearby...  
  
Yep, Severus is easier to love when he's been properly battered. Poor baby.  
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!! Filch felt deeply sorry for Severus, but his self-control just snapped. Severus   
pushed him too hard, and once too often.  
  
Zebee: Thank you!! Snape doesn't do anything easy, does he? Argus is trying hard to change, though most   
of his changes will be on the inside, his attitudes about himself and other people.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Yes, Filch is perceptive... I've always seen him as having more than two   
dimensions.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! "Obstinate ass!" That's great!!! :-) Someone's going to have to call Severus that,   
to his face!  
  
  
  
  
  
7 


	5. Unforgiven

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 5: Unforgiven  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
I stepped from my blue-and-copper Door into the corridor outside Professor Flitwick's office.   
What...? The corridor...? I hadn't asked to be taken there...  
  
Too dazed to realize what must have happened, I stepped back into the tapestry. "Professor   
Flitwick's office." I whispered. "Please. I have work to do. I've got to check his wards..."  
  
Poor blue-and-copper had to try very hard. Usually, when I travel through my Doors alone, or   
with Mrs. Norris, the journey is instantaneous, no longer than a single step. But now, the space inside the   
tapestry seemed to have grown. My eventual emergence into Professor Flitwick's office was quite sudden.   
I tripped over my own feet and landed in a heap, on his carpet.  
  
"Gracious, Mr. Filch! Are you all right?"  
  
The small, white haired Charms Professor was sitting, cross-legged on his desk. Typically, he   
was doing three things at once. An enchanted quill was floating over his head, writing out a lesson plan   
on a floating piece of parchment. Another quill and parchment were floating just over his desk, taking   
notes for an article he was writing for some scholarly journal, probably the *Charmed Circle* or *Duelist   
Quarterly.*   
  
He was also having a picnic lunch, complete with a cheerful red-and-white cloth, spread out on   
top of his desk blotter, which was why there was no room for his paperwork.  
  
"He's awake..." I said, from the floor. "Professor Snape. Just awakened. A little while ago. And   
Poppy said that he could have visitors..."  
  
Professor Flitwick was delighted. "Excellent news, excellent!"  
  
Then he studied me, apparently worried about what he saw. "Would you like a cup of tea?"  
  
I shook my head. "No, thank you, Professor." Belatedly, it dawned on me why my journey into   
his office had taken so long.  
  
"Your wards, Professor, the Unreachable Charms you've been trying... I think you've very nearly   
gotten it. The first time I tried to get in here, I couldn't."  
  
He beamed. "Why, we must go and tell Severus at once! I'm sure the news will cheer him up   
immeasurably! I promised him that his would be the second office that I made Unreachable, once the   
Charms were right."  
  
Softly, I said, "You'd better be the one to tell him, Professor. He won't speak to me." My voice   
cracked. "Well, that's not strictly true. He did say just two words to me: `Go away.'"   
  
Snape's words had been painful for me to hear. Even more terrible had been the betrayed   
expression on his pale, gaunt face as he'd spoken. Afterwards Severus had turned away, refusing even to   
look at me.  
  
My apologies, my pleas for his forgiveness, had died in my throat, unsaid.  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore had tried to comfort me, outside the ward. But I would have none of it.   
I'd told him that I was perfectly fine.  
  
"You did try to warn me," I'd said. "You knew he'd be like this. I should have known he'd be   
like this. He hasn't changed, has he? Not since he was a boy. Never mind, Headmaster. Getting him to   
listen to me is going to be terribly hard, but I won't give up. If this isn't a formal punishment, it will   
certainly do until something more drastic comes along... please, pardon me, I have work to do now..."  
  
Not waiting for his reply, I'd turned to the wall where blue-and-copper had just appeared. One   
step and I was gone.   
  
Checking Professor Flitwick's wards had been the first job that came to my mind.  
  
I'd been fine, when I'd spoken to the Headmaster. My voice hadn't even trembled. But now, tears   
were threatening. I forced them back.  
  
Professor Flitwick's face was full of sympathy. Both floating quills had stopped moving.  
  
Long before the deadly magic-eating vine creature had invaded the dungeons of Hogwarts, the   
Castle had already been infested with a vine of a different sort; a highly efficient grapevine. Every witch   
and wizard on the Squib Door "Need to Know" list appeared to be aware of what I had done to poor   
Severus. Professor Flitwick didn't need to ask why Severus was refusing to speak to me, or why I felt so   
dreadfully guilty.  
  
"When I speak with Professor Snape, I shall tell him that you are very sorry for what   
happened..." Flitwick said, to comfort me.  
  
"It's best to wait until you've said everything else that you wanted to say first," I warned him,   
miserably. "Once you mention my name, he'll probably stop talking to you, too."  
  
******  
  
The Castle has been my home for longer than any other place I've lived. Some things here   
change, but others remain ever constant. One can always count on the periodic flooding of Moaning   
Myrtle's bathroom. It's rather like the Nile, in Egypt.  
  
The ghostly brat had retreated, wailing, to her favorite stall. She never gets any sympathy from   
me, and today wasn't going to be different. Each live brat only gets to be a thorn in my side for seven   
years. The dead one is a permanent fixture in this bathroom. Myrtle's been in the Castle even longer than   
I have. She'll be here when I'm gone.  
  
Usually I will bellow at her to be quiet, at least once. It never works, but I can't help it. She gives   
me a dreadful headache. Today, however, I didn't mind her caterwauling. It suited my mood.  
  
Busy mopping up the flood, accompanied by Myrtle's howls bouncing off the walls, I didn't hear   
the bathroom door open. Nor did I hear the quiet steps of a woman who always moves with cat-like grace,   
no matter which form she wears.  
  
When Professor McGonagall spoke my name, I shrieked even louder than the ghost-brat and   
whirled around to face Minerva, my mop held out before me defensively, like a weapon.  
  
Minerva regarded me with raised eyebrows. "Moody's been saying that your reflexes are   
improving..." she shouted. "I can see it's true!"  
  
"What?" I shouted back.  
  
Minerva sighed and walked down to Myrtle's stall. I saw her knock, and then go in. A few   
moments later, silence reigned in the bathroom.  
  
"How did you do that, Professor?" I asked her, incredulously, when she returned.  
  
"I asked Myrtle, politely, to be quiet. I told her that I wanted a word with you."  
  
I felt a flutter of fear in my stomach. I hadn't had a chance to speak to Minerva since I'd nearly   
killed Severus. She was probably furious with me. No wonder Myrtle had gone quiet, she enjoys it when   
other people have troubles.  
  
"Is it about what happened... what I did to Severus?" I asked her hesitantly. Distressed and   
ashamed, I couldn't meet her eyes.  
  
"Yes," Minerva said.  
  
"I wanted the Headmaster to punish me," I said, plaintively. "But he wouldn't."  
  
"Albus has told me about his conversation with you. He's also told me about what happened   
when Severus saw you, today." She sighed again. "Poor Albus. He feels dreadful for both of you."  
  
"He shouldn't feel badly about me..." I cried, guiltily. "Not with so many other more pressing   
matters on his mind!" Upsetting the Headmaster was one of the very last things I'd intended to do.  
  
"Argus, please do be quiet. I'm trying to tell you something that you truly need to hear."  
  
The flutter of fear in my stomach got stronger. But I straightened up and tried to face her bravely.   
I knew that I deserved a stern lecture, at the very least. Minerva has a talent for stern lectures.  
  
"Magic carries with it a certain responsibility," Minerva began. "Under normal circumstances,   
young witches and wizards have many years to grow into their responsibilities. They may only use their   
magic at school and there are laws against the use of magic by underage wizards and witches during   
Holidays. The primary purpose of these laws is to teach young witches and wizards proper restraint."  
  
I nodded, stricken. She was right, I'd misused my Doors worse than the most irresponsible   
underage wizard...  
  
"I tried to tell the Headmaster that I should be reported to the Ministry..." I choked. "H-he   
wouldn't..."  
  
Minerva's voice had gotten very gentle. "Hush. Listen. The years of magical study, of careful   
training ... you haven't had any of that. The Doors are new to you, and you are learning about them so   
very quickly. Albus, Moody, all of us, are learning with you. The Doors are new to us, too."  
  
"In spite of the laws, in spite of years of careful teaching, many never learn restraint at all,"   
Minerva continued. "There are Dark wizards and witches who misuse their powers, cruelly and   
mercilessly. Without regret. Without remorse." Her voice shook.   
  
"Argus," she said, fiercely, "You are not like that. You are nothing like that! Albus and I, we   
know that you did not intend to harm Severus so badly. We know!"  
  
Her kindness undid me completely. The tears that had been threatening since Severus had turned   
away from me in the hospital wing finally started spilling over.  
  
Horribly embarrassed, I began to turn away from Minerva, but she moved forward, her arms held   
out towards me, and I found myself weeping on her shoulder instead.  
  
"S-Severus doesn't know I didn't mean it. He won't talk to me. Won't look at me. And he will   
never forgive me..!" I choked, too miserable to care that I was crying on her robe. "Minerva, you should   
have seen the look on his face...!"  
  
"Poor Severus. I don't know if he has ever forgiven anyone for anything... including himself.   
Forgiveness can be more difficult to master than the hardest spells, or the most intricate potions..."   
Minerva said sadly. "That's his burden, Argus. Please, don't make it yours."  
  
"But I'm not much good at forgiving either..." I said, desolate. "Severus said that I don't ever let   
anything go, and he's right..."  
  
Not knowing what else to say, Minerva simply held me until the flow of my tears began to lessen.   
Then, too drained and exhausted to feel as flustered as I might have done otherwise, I simply stumbled   
over to one of the sinks.  
  
It was then that Minerva and I noticed the squat figure of a girl ghost. Moaning Myrtle was   
halfway through the door of her favorite stall, observing us. Her usually glum face had an incredulous   
expression, and her eyes, behind her pearly glasses, were wide with astonishment. Apparently the sight of   
the Deputy Headmistress comforting the distraught caretaker wasn't something she'd been expecting.  
  
"What are you looking at, girl?" I snarled. "It's not as if I need your permission to come in here   
and have a good cry!" I turned on the water and washed my face.  
  
"Thank you, Myrtle. We do appreciate the use of your bathroom." Minerva said, with a great deal   
more politeness.   
  
The ghost-brat was still staring at us, when we left.  
  
******  
  
Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody had scheduled a lesson for me, at midnight. I was feeling more   
apprehensive than usual. Moody had said that it was going to be "different." As a favor, he'd told me that   
I could bring Mrs. Norris along.  
  
I was glad of my cat's company as I made my way up to Dumbledore's office, spoke the password   
("peppermint humbugs") and rode the moving staircase. As usual, Moody was waiting for me alone.   
Headmaster Dumbledore and Fawkes, his phoenix, were not there. I hoped that the Headmaster was   
asleep, enjoying untroubled dreams.   
  
The old Auror was waiting for me, sitting in a chair and sipping something out of his hip flask.  
  
Mrs. Norris rode my shoulder, purring in my ear like a small, grey thunderstorm. Not even   
Moody's presence initially silenced that purr. I was surprised, she really did not seem to be bothered by   
Moody, as she'd been when he'd taught Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"Sit..." Moody said, gruffly, nodding towards another chair beside him. "Albus has told me about   
what happened. With Snape."  
  
Of course.  
  
I stared at the floor, ashamed.  
  
"Interesting," Moody said.  
  
"That's not the word I would have chosen." I told him.  
  
"I meant that it raises interesting questions about what you can do with those Doors. For one   
thing, Albus said that you were able to change in your destination, in mid-journey. You intended to bring   
Snape to a bathroom in the dungeons and you ended up in the hospital wing instead. Have you ever done   
that before?"  
  
I shook my head. "When I'm alone, the trip is over too quickly. The only other time I've had   
passengers was with Ginny and Neville. It doesn't matter, because after what happened with Professor   
Snape, I will never take anyone else through one of the Doors again. *Never.*"  
  
Moody gave me a long look. The expression on his face was unreadable.  
  
I was relieved that, at least, he wasn't going to argue the point with me.  
  
"Must you speak aloud to the Doors to tell them where you want to be taken?" He asked me after   
a few moments.  
  
"Well, I usually speak out loud. But, it's not necessary. Sometimes they come to me when I'm   
tired, my back is aching and I'm thinking what a long walk it's going to be to the next job on my list. And   
sometimes they take me somewhere I didn't realize that I wanted to go, if I haven't been specific about a   
destination. Maybe to the kitchens, if I'm hungry and missed a meal..."  
  
Moody's scarred face looked thoughtful. "Call the Door that you took Snape through."  
  
I obeyed.   
  
The portrait-filled walls of the Headmaster's office shifted to accommodate green-and-silver.  
  
Moody stood up, leaning on his staff. His magical eye examined the tapestry. His normal eye   
remained fixed on me.  
  
"You took Snape through this one? Salazar's Door?" He asked me.  
  
"Yes," I said.   
  
Mad Eye is the only one besides me who can really tell the Doors apart. I was astonished when   
the Headmaster told me that even he can't see the colors unless he stares at the tapestries for a while. The   
scarred old Auror's magical eye gives him certain advantages.  
  
"What do you think might have happened if you'd taken Snape through any of the other three?"   
demanded Moody.  
  
"I *don't* want to think about that..." I said, shuddering.   
  
"Hmm." Moody studied green-and-silver with both eyes now.  
  
"I was in Slytherin House, myself, Filch. Did you know that?"  
  
"No..." I said.  
  
"Snape was in a very bad way for a few days, wasn't he?"  
  
I nodded, miserably.  
  
"He's on the mend now." The tone of his gruff voice made it a question.  
  
"Yes," I said. "He's still very weak, but Poppy's letting him have visitors, if they don't stay too   
long. He's had various Slytherin children in and out all day..."  
  
My voice trailed off. Poppy had given me that news when I'd gone down to the hospital wing to   
ask about Severus. Perhaps visiting with his precious charges would put Severus in a more forgiving   
mood. I hoped so, desperately. Maybe Severus would talk to me tomorrow? Or at least maybe he wouldn't   
have me thrown out if I tried to talk to him.  
  
"Filch, come here."  
  
Still cuddling Mrs. Norris, I did what I was told.  
  
She'd stopped purring, and her attitude was wary.   
  
Looking back, with perfect hindsight, I should have suspected what Moody was going to do. No   
one can spot trouble about to start like Mrs. Norris can.  
  
But my mind was still focused on poor Severus, and the hope that he might be in a slightly better   
mood tomorrow. I'd forgotten Moody's first lesson. Constant Vigilance. I'd let my guard down.  
  
"Filch!" Moody's voice had deepened to a harsh, dangerous growl. "Pay attention, man!"  
  
That was all the warning he gave me. His heavy wooden staff was suddenly swinging at my head.   
Heart pounding, I ducked swiftly under a clout that would have taken my head off, had it connected.   
What was going on? He'd never physically attacked me before!  
  
Mrs. Norris jumped down from my arms, hissing.  
  
"Have you lost your mind?" I shouted at Moody.  
  
"Defend yourself, Squib!" He snarled.  
  
Dropping his staff, he tackled me, knocking me off my feet. The two of us fell together,   
struggling, towards the wall of the Headmaster's office. Towards the green-and-silver Door.  
  
Both Moody's eyes were locked on mine. His expression went from crazed to the look that I   
couldn't read.  
  
"My fault, whatever happens..." he growled. "Not y-..." It was all he had time to say.  
  
Side by side, we went through the Door.  
  
END OF CHAPTER FIVE  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I really don't know what House Alastor Moody was in. Has Rowling ever said? He seems like a properly   
crafty Slytherin to me, so that's where I put him.   
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! I'd love to read a first-person fic from Albus's point of view too. (I don't think I can   
write one, though.) The bit about the Marauders and the Chinese water torture was inspired by a leaky   
water tap in my bathroom, when I was trying to write the story. ;-)  
  
Mrs. Norris is fun to write!  
  
I agree that the Slytherin children must have strong feelings of affection and respect for Snape. He's their   
champion and protector in a world where most people seem to see the members of Slytherin house as a   
den of evil snakes.  
  
Gehenna has ended up having a bigger part in the story than I originally planned. I like her too. I needed   
a tiny, vulnerable Slytherin child. Rowling didn't already have one, so I had to create Gehenna. She's a   
pale, quiet, little mousy thing. Gehenna is interested in Potions so Snape would be her hero even if he   
weren't the Head of her house.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! I'm glad you like Gehenna... she's my first original character.   
  
HLB: Thank you!! Your stories are among the very first that kept me coming back to ff.net once my sons   
and I discovered this site! I am delighted that you like my stories!!  
  
Ariana Deralte: I would like to see Filch and Snape going to a pub together, but I agree that it's unlikely   
to happen. (Though now I can't help running possibilities through my mind as to how it *might* happen   
someday...)  
  
Yes, Snape is going to find out that his Dark Mark is what really set the tapestry off, beyond the normal   
protective spells. I couldn't resist such a tempting chance to emotionally batter poor Severus. Moody is   
testing several theories with his little experiment.   
  
Yes, the Doors have a greater negative effect on adult, trained wizards. They will get quite a bit sicker   
than Ginny and Neville did. Each Founder originally intended their Door for their private use, only.  
  
Snape himself wasn't sure what he was going to say. He was definitely going to get in a few more insults,   
but in an almost conciliatory way...  
  
Moody's fun to write. Filch would rather have Mad Eye hunt him through the Castle than pull a stunt like   
his "experiment" in this chapter.   
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!! Yes, Snape hates being "poor Severus." Though, you're right, I think at some   
very deep, deep level, he likes getting attention and sympathy.  
  
I hadn't thought about the question of the Heirs of the various Houses! That's interesting! It would make   
sense that the Heir of a particular House would be able to use that Founder's Door without being attacked   
by the protective spells. I don't think that Voldemort would be able to use Salazar's Door, though. It was   
created by, and for, a being more human than the Dark Lord has become.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! & Thank you!!  
  
Radka: Thank you!! Jinx? What jinx? (Looks around, nervously...)  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Wow, I'm so flattered that you printed all that stuff out. I'm sorry about the typos... I   
keep meaning to go back and fix those.  
  
You can borrow anything you want. I don't mind. Toys are more fun when they're shared!  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Actually, Argus can drive poor Dumbledore crazy, with his ideas on punishment.   
It's enough to make poor Albus start pulling out his beard.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! 


	6. Squib Doors and Dark Marks

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 6: Squib Doors and Dark Marks  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
I was desperately glad that Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody was still alive. Even though my first   
reaction, when Poppy had assured me that he was not in any mortal danger, had been to snarl "Good,   
then I can kill him!"  
  
Moody was feeling so wretched at the moment that he might have considered death a mercy.  
  
My very own Defense Against The Dark Arts (for Squibs) Professor, a wizard that I'd come to   
respect and admire, was shuddering violently while painful heaves wracked his body. I supported him   
with an arm behind his back and held a basin out in front of him. He was shaking too badly to hold the   
basin for himself.  
  
Though I was trembling nearly as much as he was, I nevertheless did my best to keep the basin   
steady in front of him. My best wasn't quite good enough, but Moody was too miserable to care about the   
splatters on his blanket, the bed and the floor around him.  
  
Mrs. Norris had retreated to what she clearly hoped was a safe position, underneath Moody's bed.   
Moody and I had tumbled through the green-and-silver Door into the hospital wing, but Mrs. Norris had   
taken the long way around to get here. She'd been giving me baleful looks ever since. I had a sinking   
feeling that she was not going to be trusting me out of her sight again any time soon.   
  
Mad Eye was so pale that all the scars on his face seemed to have vanished, (except for the   
missing chunk from his nose.) His electric-blue magical eye had been removed and was now resting in an   
empty water glass on the table beside his bed. Both lids, the one over his empty socket, and his normal   
eye, were tightly shut.  
  
"I d-don't feel the slightest bit sorry for you!" I muttered to him. "Serves you right!"  
  
Moody replied the only way he could. He gasped and threw up some more. Then he sagged   
against my arm and moaned.  
  
"What were you *thinking*?" I cried for the third or fourth time. "Were you thinking at all?   
Didn't I tell you it would be horrible?"  
  
"D-didn't... die..." Moody managed to choke out. His voice was a very pale shadow of its usual   
gruff self. "Not e-even... cl-close to dead. Not like... Snape..."  
  
Incredibly, under the circumstances, he managed to sound just the slightest bit triumphant.  
  
"No," I snarled, exasperated. "You're not dead! Congratulations. You probably just wish you   
were! Of all the stupid...! Do you know how close I came to losing my grip on you..?"  
  
Moody's normal human eye opened to look at me with interest. But the interest was replaced, a   
second later, by abject misery. He began to heave again.  
  
"Argus Filch," said a small, squeaky voice behind me, "Winky is taking over now, sir. Mess in   
front ward is all cleaned up. Argus Filch must give Alastor Moody to Winky now."   
  
I turned and looked into the huge brown eyes of a house elf.  
  
"Thank you for letting me sit here with him while you cleaned up, Winky," I said. "I just wanted   
to make sure that h-he was really all right..." my voice shook.  
  
Winky reached out one tiny, long-fingered hand and patted my shoulder, fondly. Then she   
scuttled forward to take the basin from me, settling herself in front of Moody, not a moment too soon.  
  
The house elf held the basin a lot steadier than I'd managed to do. She also crooned soft,   
comforting words to Moody while he was being sick, which was kinder than my scolding had been.  
  
My experience with house elves is limited to the ones that I know at Hogwarts. My family was   
old, and pure blooded, but we were not the sort who had a manor or a house elf. Winky is a newcomer to   
the Castle. I don't know what her story is, no one has ever told me. She spends a great deal of time   
helping Poppy in the hospital wing. In fact, she seems far more content here than she does anywhere else   
in the Castle.  
  
(I am guessing that Winky must have been freed by a former master before she came to   
Hogwarts. She wears clothes instead of the usual monogrammed tea towel. Though she's changed her   
style since she first came. Poppy has given her many scarves; pretty gauzy ones, plain ones, knitted ones   
and formal ones. Poppy pretended that they were old scarves that she didn't want any longer, but she'd   
bought them new. Winky wears them draped around her, like a kilt.)  
  
Winky remained fond of anyone who had ever been "her" patient. I knew this from personal   
experience. Months ago, she had helped to take care of me while I was recovering from my little outing   
with the Death Eaters. Every now and then, she still checked on my hands. Crabbe and Goyle, senior, had   
torn out my fingernails. Poppy had regrown them for me, pink and new. I'd warned Winky that they   
weren't going to stay that way for very long, considering the work that I do. But she still scolded me about   
the generally battered condition of my hands.  
  
I thought that she seemed especially protective as she tended to Moody. And much sadder than   
she usually is, at least when she's taking care of someone who needs her.  
  
"Where's Poppy, with his sleeping draught?" I asked Winky.  
  
"Madam Poppy is making it up now, Argus Filch. Madam Poppy's potions and draughts is   
running rather low, sir. Poor Professor Snape is much too sick to be making more."  
  
She turned back to Moody.  
  
Biting my lip, I looked down the dimly lit ward, to another occupied bed. I felt steadier now. And   
I needed to know how Severus was doing.  
  
"Where is Argus Filch going?" the elf asked me as I got up.  
  
"I just want to have a look at him, Winky." I told her sadly. "He can't get angry at me for doing   
that if he's asleep, can he?"  
  
"Argus Filch must not wake Poor Professor Snape!"  
  
"Argus Filch wouldn't dream of it..." I sighed, trying to walk quietly.  
  
It was already too late.   
  
When I reached Snape's bed, I was met by a glare that looked even more corrosive than usual on   
his pale, gaunt face.   
  
"So..." he sneered, weakly. "The deadly Squib Flu has claimed another victim. Tell me, what did   
Moody do to annoy you? Was he clumping around the castle with mud on his wooden leg? Or did he   
presume to test your defensive reflexes with a Fanged Frisbee or a Screaming Yo-Yo?"  
  
Severus was *talking* to me! (All right, he was insulting me, but maybe it was a start.)  
  
"Or perhaps..." Snape's weak voice became even more venomous, "he just asked you to do one   
simple little thing for him."  
  
The sneer intensified.  
  
"And you did not like his tone. So you then decided to make a vicious attempt on his life!"  
  
Heartsick, I fell on my knees beside his bed and clutched at his blankets.  
  
"Professor," I cried, "forgive me, please...! I didn't mean it! I didn't know what it would do to   
you. I never wanted to harm you. Please believe me!"  
  
"Argus Filch! You is being bad! You is waking Poor Professor Snape!" Winky cried.  
  
"It's quite all right," Snape said, to Winky, politely enough. "He did not wake me. I was not   
sleeping."  
  
Moody's voice was nearly as weak as Snape's. And nearly as venomous.  
  
"You... leave Filch... alone... Snape. Not his fault!" He broke off with a moan, fighting to   
control his nausea. "My fault. Tricked him.... -oooh-"   
  
Losing his battle, he collapsed, gasping, over the basin again.  
  
Snape's lip curled. "You tricked Filch into nearly killing you? Brilliant, Moody. Not quite as   
brilliant as being tricked yourself, captured and locked up in your own trunk. But it's close."  
  
I had no idea what Professor Snape was talking about.   
  
Strangely enough, Winky seemed to know. She flinched.  
  
Mad Eye was clearly infuriated. His normal eye was blazing nearly as brightly as his magical   
one, in the glass on his table.  
  
"The Door...didn't nearly kill me!" Moody choked, when he could talk again. "Traveling through   
it was very ...unpleasant. Though, compared to what happened to you,... I got off lightly. You...tell him...   
Filch."  
  
Snape skewered me with a glower.  
  
"That's true," I said quietly. "Moody's been sick, even sicker than poor Neville and Ginny were.   
But that's all. He didn't stop breathing... h-he didn't... there was no blood..." I shuddered, clenching my   
hands tightly, remembering Snape's condition after I'd pulled him through the same Door.  
  
I took a deep breath. "Poppy thinks that he may even be on his feet again by tomorrow."  
  
Snape's dark eyes widened. His strength was returning very slowly, and he'd already been   
bedridden for days.  
  
"We're both Slytherin wizards, Snape..." Moody's voice was a little steadier now. "Both of us   
were taken through Salazar's Door. Both of us triggered some powerful protective spells. But you were   
hit a good deal harder than I was. Now, my question is ...Why?"  
  
There was a look of satisfaction on Moody's pale, sweaty face. Weakly, he held out his left   
forearm. The old Auror had scars aplenty. But no Dark Mark.  
  
"Could it be that Salazar's Door doesn't much care for your ... taint?" Moody growled. "Your   
still-active link to the Dark forces which are seeking to bring this Castle down?"  
  
Moody might just as well have clubbed Severus with his heavy staff, the one that was still lying   
on the floor of the Headmaster's office.  
  
Snape withdrew in on himself, wrapping his blanket around him like a cloak. Pulling his left arm   
against his body, he winced in pain.  
  
"It's not his fault!" I cried to Moody. "You know that thing won't ever come off...!"  
  
"Shut up, Filch," Severus said, bitterly. "Your help is neither wanted, nor needed."  
  
"Not his fault?" Moody looked at me, incredulously. "Did you imagine that the Dark Mark just   
appeared on his arm by *accident,* Filch? That he had it done for a lark? He always was the sort of   
Slytherin that gives us all a bad name!"  
  
"Not any more!" I said. I shivered, helplessly, as I was ambushed by a memory.  
  
December. Rusty chains. Terrible pain. Blood everywhere, almost all of it mine. And Snape's   
voice, even colder than the snow. Apparently indifferent to my suffering as he'd stood there in a Death   
Eater Guise he carried inside him always, and could assume at will.  
  
He had to be convincing. I knew that. If they didn't think he was one of them, they'd kill him. Or   
worse, they'd leave him to the "mercy" of He Who Must Not Be Named.   
  
Severus had saved my life. I'd rewarded him with a month of fear and mistrust. And later, he'd   
paid a very painful price for his bravery. Severus was getting my help now, whether he wanted and needed   
it, or not.  
  
"He's not that sort any more..." I repeated. "Besides, there could be other reasons why the Door   
harmed him worse than it did you. He hasn't been well, not since he suffered the Cru..."  
  
"Shut *up,* Filch!" Snape snarled.  
  
"I'm right, aren't I?" Moody's single eye met Severus's gaze. "And you know it, even if Filch   
doesn't. Did going through Salazar's Door give you a pain in that Mark of yours?"  
  
His movements slow, Severus turned, so that his back was towards us. The desperate look of   
shame on his face as he turned away was like a knife in my heart.  
  
Both Winky and I glowered at Moody.  
  
"You didn't have to do that!" I said to my teacher.  
  
"Poor Professor Snape..." Winky said, reprovingly, "is not being a bad Dark wizard any longer.   
Bad Dark wizards is hurting Poor Professor Snape!"  
  
"And one very bad Squib has hurt him too," I added sadly. I reached out to adjust Severus's   
blanket, but stopped. I didn't have the nerve to touch him.  
  
"I'm so very sorry..." I said, to his impassive back. "Please believe that. Please..."  
  
Snape made no response. I hadn't really expected one.  
  
His anger at me was twisted up in his own shame and guilt. He would never forgive me. I wasn't   
going to give up, in spite of that.  
  
I stood up slowly. I walked back over to Moody's bed and collapsed into a chair beside it.  
  
"Poor Argus Filch is not meaning to be so bad." Winky patted my shoulder again. Then she took   
the full basin away from Moody. His stomach finally seemed to have settled down, somewhat.  
  
Mrs. Norris, suspecting that the coast was now clear, emerged from underneath Moody's bed and   
leaped into my lap. I hugged her gratefully. Apparently she'd forgiven me for the upsetting evening we'd   
just spent, because she began to purr.  
  
"Alastor Moody should lie down and rest now. Winky is bringing clean blankets and a clean robe   
for sir," she said. Then she vanished, with a sound like a whip-crack.  
  
Mad Eye lay back against his pillow. A little color had come back into his face and his scars were   
visible again. He still looked ill and in pain.  
  
"Filch..." he said, gruffly, "I suspected why Snape had nearly died when you took him through   
that Door, but I had to test my theory. I had to *know.* You had to know, too. You thought what   
happened to him was all your fault. You're tearing yourself up over it. But some of the blame belongs to   
him. You didn't put that filthy Mark on his arm, did you?"  
  
"No, but I took him through the Door out of spite, because he made me angry. That was wrong,"   
I said quietly.   
  
"Yes..." Moody grunted, "it was. And I was wrong to trick you. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd   
agree to take me through, so it seemed like the only way to get what I wanted."  
  
"What..." I asked him, angrily, "if you'd been wrong?"  
  
He smiled, wearily. "I trusted you to get me through to the other side, one way or another, Filch.   
Just like you were able to get Snape through, still breathing."  
  
"It was a very near thing, both times." I said, furiously. "When I carry passengers, it's a struggle.   
It was hardest with Severus, but it was still bad enough with you."  
  
Moody shivered. "You said you nearly lost your grip on me. What do you think would happen to   
a passenger that you let go of while they were still inside?"  
  
I felt sick. "I guess they'd be left behind, trapped. I don't know how I'd ever find them again.   
When I go through on my own, the journey's over in a single step. I can't slow down and look for anyone.   
Please, don't ever ask me to take any more passengers. I won't do it. Never again."  
  
"The Fates enjoy laughing at people who say "never," Filch." Moody told me. "But you have my   
word. I won't ask. And I'll play no more tricks."  
  
""But," he continued, fiercely, "consider this. Those Doors of yours can be a powerful weapon,   
now that we know they have a particular dislike for Death Eaters..."  
  
Too tired to say any more, he reached out a shaky hand and clapped me on the shoulder.  
  
My eyes widened. Distracted by my guilt and worry over Severus, I hadn't thought about my   
Doors as a potential weapon. It was a new idea, strange and frightening.  
  
I stayed by Moody's bed. When Winky came back, she allowed me to help her change his   
blankets and clean him up.   
  
We were finishing up when Poppy came into the ward. She looked tired and was carrying two   
doses of a sleeping draught.  
  
She stopped by Snape's bed first.  
  
Wordlessly, Severus took the cup from her, balancing it carefully in his bandaged hands. He   
drained it, grimacing.  
  
"I know, I know. Not nearly as smooth as yours..." Poppy sighed. "When you get back on your   
feet again, I will have plenty of work for you."  
  
She looked at me, then. Her expression reassured me that Severus *would* be back on his feet,   
eventually.  
  
It was Moody's turn next. He was too shaky to hold the cup, so she held it for him.  
  
Within moments they were both asleep.  
  
Poppy sighed again, looking at Winky, me and Mrs. Norris. "Thank goodness. That's the only   
way I can leave these two alone together in this ward with a clear conscience!"   
  
"Have you told the Headmaster about what happened tonight?" I asked her.  
  
Poppy shook her head. "Albus needs a few nights of unbroken rest, just as badly as the next   
wizard. This can keep until morning. Oh, dear, it is morning. Well, afternoon then. I believe I'll let   
Alastor try to explain himself to Albus. That should be ...interesting." She smiled.  
  
"Get yourself to bed, now, Argus," she told me gently.   
  
I realized that I was very tired.  
  
"Make sure that he sleeps," Poppy said to Mrs. Norris. "Don't let him out of bed before   
lunchtime tomorrow."  
  
Mrs. Norris blinked her golden eyes and fixed me with a stern glare.  
  
The wall behind me shifted to accommodate poor, overworked green-and-silver, who could   
probably do with a rest as well.   
  
Bidding Poppy and Winky a weary "good morning," I stepped through my Door, with Mrs.   
Norris beside me.  
  
END OF CHAPTER SIX  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!! I thought that "those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends" could   
apply to Moody. He believes that limits are made to be pushed. Say "Hi" to Shadow!  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! (Kill Myrtle? But she's already dead...)  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Mrs. Norris hadn't met the real Mad Eye, before she met Barty Crouch, junior.   
So she didn't know that "Mad Eye Moody" was an impostor. She simply didn't like him. (My inspiration   
for this was the invisibility cloak scene in "Goblet of Fire," with Harry, "Moody," Snape, Filch and Mrs.   
Norris. The whole time that "Moody" was there, Mrs. Norris was hiding behind Filch, peering around his   
legs. ) Mrs. Norris doesn't warm up to many people, so there was nothing unusual to note there.   
When Mrs. Norris first met the real Mad Eye, she decided that this one is an improvement.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Dumbledore hasn't compared Filch to "a steady stream of water droplets, wearing   
away a stone basin" for nothing...  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! YES!!! A new Uric chapter!!  
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!! Filch also wanted to know what the heck Moody was thinking.   
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! The image of Snape's Get Well Card made me laugh out loud!  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! (And you're right about my wretched day job. ;-)) I've always thought that   
"Gehenna" was a pretty word, and would make an interesting name for a character.   
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Yes, you're right... I should stop giving things away in my author's notes. I'm going   
to make an effort to stop doing that.  
  
Oooh! I'm looking forward to seeing what plans you have for Filch, in "Balance!" 


	7. Impossible Things

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 7: Impossible Things  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Keeping a roomful of young wizards and witches from blowing themselves, or their cauldrons, to   
bits while they are learning the subtle science and exact art of potion making, is no easy task. Sometimes   
it's impossible.   
  
Every Professor who'd covered one of Snape's Potions classes while Severus was ill, had learned   
a new respect for the man.  
  
Today had been Professor Grubbly-Plank's turn with the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. I   
was on my way over to Snape's classroom, carrying a ladder, a bucket, plenty of magical mess remover   
(extra strength) and an assortment of scrubbing brushes.  
  
"Filch! Come quickly! It's all over the ceiling!!" Professor Grubbly-Plank had shouted, via my   
office fireplace.  
  
"Why is it *always* all over the ceiling?" I grumbled to Mrs. Norris. "I hate scrubbing ceilings!   
Mess remover dripping in my eyes, and my arms and back aching for hours afterwards! Why can't the   
brats just stick to blowing things up all over the floors and the walls?"  
  
I hadn't had the heart to ask Professor Grubbly-Plank precisely what was "all over the ceiling."   
Something disgusting, no doubt. I would be finding out soon enough.  
  
Mrs. Norris and I were heading down the main dungeon corridor towards Snape's classroom   
when we heard pounding feet behind us. In a foul temper, I whirled around, prepared to shout at the brats   
for running in the hallway. It had been a while since I'd assigned a detention. Doing so would definitely   
cheer me up a bit.  
  
But when I saw who was running and got a good look at their faces, I shouted for a different   
reason.  
  
"Neville...! What is it? Are you all right?"  
  
"Fine... I'm fine..." Neville gasped, though he was white as a freshly laundered sheet. "But,   
Draco... he's..."  
  
Reluctantly, I looked at the three other boys who were with Neville.  
  
Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe.   
  
My stomach clenched like a fist. The sight of the three Death Eater Spawn always made me   
tremble. Being near them made me feel sick.   
  
I knew that my feelings towards them were unfair. Those boys had never treated me with an   
ounce of respect, but they had never truly harmed me either. It was their fathers who had tortured me.   
  
I didn't care about being fair. Some day I might be able to convince my mind that the boys were   
blameless, but I thought it would be impossible to convince my innards.  
  
Had these evil wretches done something to Neville? It wouldn't have been the first time they'd   
bullied my young friend!  
  
I was going to start yelling at the three Slytherins. Then I noticed that they were as pale as   
Neville. And Crabbe and Goyle were supporting Draco Malfoy.   
  
Draco's face was nearly colorless. He was shuddering violently, grey eyes clenched shut in shock   
and pain. His right arm, held slightly out from his body, had something wire-thin and sickly green wound   
around it.   
  
"Sweet Circe, tell me that's not what I think it is!" I gasped.  
  
Suddenly my hatred for Draco mattered little. A wizard-child with one of those vines wrapped   
around his arm was suffering the kind of torment I would only wish on an adult Death Eater.  
  
"Help him, Mr. Filch!" Neville cried. "Please, help him..."  
  
Draco was sliding to his knees when I reached him, nearly unconscious with pain. I didn't know   
how the boy had managed to stay on his feet as long as he had done.  
  
Neville was keeping a steady cooling charm on Draco's arm, but the agony must have still been   
intense.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle didn't move. They continued to hover over Draco, even if there was nothing   
they could do. They were loyal, I had to give them that.  
  
Pulling Draco into my lap I began wrenching the vine off his arm.  
  
I felt the edges of a wave of cold. Neville had increased the strength of the cooling charm he was   
using on the injured Slytherin.   
  
Draco shuddered, crying out, but he managed to stay remarkably still until I'd gotten the vine all   
the way off him. As I flung it on the floor behind me I heard two voices shout,  
  
"INCENDIO!!"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle quickly reduced the vine to ashes. Fueled by their anger, perhaps, their spell   
was too strong. A wave of heat scalded my back. I hissed in pain, shielding Draco and Neville with my   
body.  
  
Mrs. Norris had retreated down the corridor, to a safe distance. Her fur was bristling and her eyes   
were glowing like small, golden lamps.  
  
"Stop!" Neville shouted at Crabbe and Goyle. "It's dead! That's enough!"  
  
The two bigger boys obeyed.  
  
"Hospital wing..." I said, after a few moments. "Malfoy should get to the hospital wing..."  
  
"That's where we were taking him..." Neville said, getting his breath back. "We were lucky to   
run into you on our way. I don't know if Draco would have made it..."  
  
"I would have..."  
  
Draco's voice was muffled, his face hidden against my shirt. He was shaking violently, as Neville   
had done under similar circumstances.   
  
I saw Neville rubbing his own right arm in sympathy. His arm was no longer in a sling, and his   
bandages had finally come off. Poppy had assured him that the scars would fade, eventually.  
  
"W-where did this happen?" I asked Neville. "Where did the vine attack him?"  
  
Neville looked at the three Slytherins, his round face full of compassion.  
  
"Inside the Slytherin dormitory..." he told me softly.  
  
Draco was trembling so hard in my arms that I was shaking along with him. Crabbe's and   
Goyle's brutish faces were filled with fear.  
  
Suddenly, my hatred for the three of them seemed unimportant. The petty hatred of a small-  
minded man.  
  
"Can't take me t-to ...hospital wing..." Draco gasped. "Professor Snape mustn't ...know about   
any of this. Don't want ...to worry him. I must get Professor Sprout. Br-bring her into our dormitory..."  
  
"Don't be stupid!" I said harshly. "You can't go anywhere but the hospital wing, in the condition   
you're in!" I looked at Crabbe. "You. Go to the Potions class and tell Professor Grubbly-Plank the ceiling   
has to wait."  
  
Turning to Goyle, I said "You. Go find Professor Sprout. Tell her what's happening. She'll know   
what to do. Let her, and whoever else she needs to help her, into your dormitory. RUN!"  
  
Once they'd left, I tried to stand up with Draco in my arms. The boy had grown tall and I   
couldn't manage it.  
  
"Neville, can you levitate him and keep that cooling charm on him?"  
  
Neville nodded. "Wingardium Leviosa!"   
  
I still held Draco to keep him steady, but Neville's spell took most of the other boy's weight.   
  
"Tell me what happened!" I said, as Neville and I moved Draco gently through the corridor, Mrs.   
Norris padding softly after us.  
  
"The three of them came to me. They..." Neville's eyes were wide, as if he still couldn't believe   
what he was about to say, "they asked me to help them. Actually, it was Draco who did the asking. He...   
was rather polite about it."  
  
Incredibly, the boy I carried was able to summon a very weak laugh. He murmured something   
into my shirt that sounded like "...better a Gryffindor than a Hufflepuff..."  
  
"I thought," Neville said, frowning at Draco for his rudeness, though the other boy couldn't see,   
"for a moment or two that they might be joking. But, when I really saw the looks on their faces..." he   
shivered.   
  
"Draco told me that the Slytherin first years, both the boys and the girls, were still having   
nightmares," Neville continued. "He said that the little ones kept saying that they heard rustling in the   
walls. And he realized that Professor Sprout had not been inside the Slytherin dormitories to check for the   
vines in nearly a week. Not since Professor Snape has been sick. He was always the one who'd let her in."  
  
"She'd never found anything before," Neville went on. "The dormitories had always been clean.   
But today..." he gulped, "today, when I went in there with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, I could feel the   
vines growing. The other rooms were clean, but, in the dormitories where the first years sleep..." his voice   
trailed off in horror.  
  
I could still hear Severus Snape's haunted voice.   
  
"It would have taken them, Argus..." he had said. "The littlest ones. Just like that. Swiftly,   
silently. No chance even to scream. None of us knew that the parts could keep twitching for so long after   
the brain was destroyed. None of us knew..."  
  
The vines had invaded the place where his children slept! It was his worst fear.  
  
"He mustn't know..." Draco moaned into my shirt. "The Professor. He's so ill, and he can't spare   
the strength for more worrying. He trusted me. I'm the Prefect. It's all my fault. He said that I should let   
Professor Sprout keep checking. I promised him I would let her. But I didn't. I thought the dormitories   
would stay clear. I thought that we didn't need Sprout's help!"   
  
I held Draco tighter as my heart froze. "It's not your fault!" I wanted to cry. "It's mine! Snape   
had been the one who'd let Professor Sprout in to check the Slytherins' living areas. Until Severus had   
been hurt. Until I had hurt him. Leaving him bedridden. Leaving his children undefended. Too suspicious   
of anyone outside their House to ask for help until it was too late.  
  
"C-couldn't bring myself to go to her... to Sprout," Draco confessed miserably. "But,   
Longbottom... can do that trick too. So we... Crabbe, Goyle and I, we surrounded him. If good manners   
hadn't worked... I would have threatened... had Vincent and Gregory knock him down. Would have   
dragged him with us. The dormitories are all empty now, everyone's at class. At least no one else g-got   
hurt..."  
  
"Did you really think that I would refuse to help you?" Neville said, exasperated. "For that   
matter, do you think that Professor Sprout would have refused you? I'm sure that if you'd waited much   
longer she would have come looking for you and *asked* to check your dormitories!"  
  
Shuddering with pain, Draco didn't answer.  
  
"It's a Slytherin trait. They can't seem to help it," I told Neville. "Slytherins don't trust anyone."  
  
"...Because..." Draco gasped, "no one trusts us..."  
  
I felt too sick with shame and guilt to say anything.  
  
Neville sighed. "Could be your attitude has something to do with that, Draco. Can you blame the   
Hufflepuffs for not trusting you? It's a good thing Hufflepuffs are known for their patience! Anyhow,   
don't worry. Professor Sprout will take care of everything now. I'm sure the dormitories will be cleared of   
vines before tonight..."  
  
We'd reached the hospital wing.  
  
"Don't tell Professor Snape..." Draco moaned softly. "Don't let him see me. I'll tell him myself,   
when he's a little better. Not now."  
  
"All right, all right..." I promised. "He's not going to hear about it from me."   
  
"Nor me..." Neville said, as the two of us got Draco onto a bed in the front ward. I did not dare   
even glance in the direction of the back ward, where Professor Snape probably lay sleeping. (Poppy had   
muttered that Severus slept fine during the day and fretted all night, like a difficult infant. Fortunately,   
she had not said that where Severus could hear her. )  
  
Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody was awake, sitting up in the chair by his bed, magical eye once more   
in place. Looking much better than he had last night, the old Auror stood up and limped into the front   
ward.  
  
Draco was the only patient in the ward. Little Gehenna Morgan had finally been well enough to   
go back to class. I sighed, wondering if the poor child would be able to sleep in her own bed tonight, or if   
she'd even feel safe there.  
  
Neville stood by Draco's bed, maintaining his cooling charm, while I went into Poppy's office.  
  
I didn't have to say anything. She took one look at my face and knew it was serious.  
  
"Well," Moody was saying, gruffly, as I came back in, followed by Poppy. "Young Mr. Malfoy.   
What's happened to you?"  
  
It's true that Slytherins tend not to trust people outside their own House. But some Slytherins   
reserve their strongest mistrust for other Slytherins.  
  
Despite his pain, Draco was sharing a look of intense dislike with Moody.  
  
"Those damned vines..." I told Moody very, very softly, "have invaded the Slytherin dormitories.   
Draco here was the only one hurt. Professor Sprout is probably dealing with the vines right now."  
  
My voice got as deadly as I could make it. It's a tone that I usually reserve for Peeves. "Listen,   
Moody, if you breathe a word to Severus... if you taunt him about this..."  
  
"Merlin's Beard, Filch! What do you take me for?" Moody looked upset. He also looked more   
chastened than I'd ever seen him look.  
  
I'd been asleep when the Headmaster had spoken to Moody about the events of the previous   
night. Apparently I'd missed an interesting conference. I hoped that Poppy would fill me in later.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore...!" I said. "I should tell him about this."  
  
Poppy nodded, as she got to work on Draco's arm. "You can go, Argus. It's all right. He'll be   
fine..."  
  
"Neville...?" I said, "You'd better come too. You were there. I wasn't."  
  
******  
  
Once again, the dungeons of Hogwarts were in an uproar.  
  
When Dumbledore reached the Slytherin dormitories, the news had already spread among the   
students like wildfire. Most of the Slytherins were standing outside the wall that concealed the hidden   
entrance to their common room. They were huddled together, looking terrified.  
  
Even so, many of them tugged at Dumbledore's robe and sleeves.  
  
"Please, don't tell Professor Snape..." the Headmaster was begged, over and over again. "He'll   
worry...!"  
  
Sprout had already taken care of the vines. The growth hadn't been terribly large, just several   
clusters of wire-thin tendrils. Severus had last brought her in to check, four days ago; the same the day I'd   
landed him in the hospital wing. Still, she looked furious with herself for not checking sooner.  
  
"I was going to wait another day...!" she berated herself.  
  
The wary Slytherins allowed the Headmaster to accompany them into their dormitory as they   
went to check on any possible damage to their belongings. It was a measure of how frightened and   
vulnerable they felt.  
  
******  
  
I didn't get to clean the ceiling in Snape's classroom until it was nearly dinner time. I didn't   
bother stopping work to eat. Cleaning his ceiling was the least I could do. This was going to be quite a   
job, but I told myself that I wouldn't stop till it was finished. Not hungry anyhow. Food would choke me.  
  
"My fault..." I whispered to Mrs. Norris, who sat, watching me from a safe distance where no   
magical mess remover would drip down on her. "My fault he wasn't there to watch over them. Everyone   
in the Castle means well, but no one else ever puts them first. Not like he does..."  
  
When the work was finally done, I was too tired to do anything but sit on the lowest rung of my   
ladder. Mrs. Norris came to me and I held her.  
  
"I wanted to hate those three..." I said, dully. "Cursed little Death Eaters. It's so much simpler   
just to hate them."  
  
"Mr. Filch...?"  
  
It was Neville.  
  
"You didn't come to dinner..." the boy said, quietly. "Ginny and I were worried about you. She's   
gone to see if you're in your office, but I remembered that you didn't get a chance to clean in here. Are   
you all right?"  
  
"You did a brave thing today, Neville..." I said, ignoring his question.  
  
Neville blushed. "It wasn't brave, just decent." He smiled, wryly. "I know that Draco isn't very   
nice. I don't much like him, really. But that didn't matter. I know this may sound strange, but Draco was   
the one who was really brave. He asked me for help. I could tell it was a hard thing for him to do. He was   
frightened. He really thought I'd say "no!""  
  
I winced.  
  
Yes, it had been hard for proud Draco Malfoy to ask Neville Longbottom for help. How much   
harder had it been for Professor Snape to ask me to bring Neville down to his dungeon corridor to look for   
vine-growths?  
  
Maybe Severus hadn't wanted to bother Professor Sprout yet again. And Neville had proven his   
talent so well, that day. How difficult it must have been for Severus to admit that he wanted Neville to   
help him.  
  
No wonder he'd been so rude and short-tempered.  
  
I rested my head gently against Mrs. Norris's soft fur.  
  
"N-Neville...?" I murmured. "Could you take your wand and check the corridor outside this   
classroom for vines again? Please...?"  
  
"All right. Of course, I will."  
  
He took his time and did a thorough job.  
  
I didn't move until he returned to tell me that the corridor outside Snape's classroom was clean   
of vines.  
  
"Thank you..." I whispered. Such a simple thing for someone with his particular gifts. Neville   
did it well and it gave him pleasure to do it.  
  
"Mr. Filch...? What's wrong? Please, tell me." Whatever he saw in my face was making poor   
Neville anxious.  
  
"It's my fault..." I said.  
  
"What... the vines...? No it isn't!"  
  
"Professor Snape..." I said, dully, "Is sick, because of me. Because I got angry. I dragged him   
through a Door. I didn't know it would be so much worse for a grown wizard. I almost killed him.   
Without Poppy, he would have died. He did something that was very hard for him to do, Neville. He asked   
me for my help, the way Draco asked you. But he asked me rudely, and I got angry. And that was the   
answer I gave him."  
  
"Oh..." Neville said, shocked.   
  
I stared at my feet, unable to meet his eyes.  
  
"The poor man was so terribly frightened..." I whispered.  
  
Neville was quiet for a while before he finally spoke.  
  
"Frightened? Professor Snape? I never thought about him that way..." Neville said, wonderingly.   
"I never thought about him being scared of anything. He's just about the scariest person in the Castle,   
isn't he? What frightened him?"  
  
"The thought of losing his Slytherins to the Dark, or to a creature of the Dark. He'd do anything   
to protect them. But sometimes he can't. And that causes him terrible pain. It frightens him to trust   
anyone, or to ask anyone for help..." I said softly.  
  
Neville shivered. "I wonder what a boggart would make of any of those fears...?" He said.  
  
"Neville...?" I murmured. "I probably shouldn't have told you any of this."  
  
"I won't breathe a word to anyone," the boy said, sincerely. "I promise."  
  
"You have a gift, Neville, and you use it like a proper wizard should. To help, not to harm. You   
should be proud of yourself. I am so very proud of you."  
  
`And so terribly ashamed of me...' I thought. The pain in my heart was too deep for tears. I just   
felt numb.   
  
Severus's forgiveness was something I needed. But I no longer felt that it was something I   
deserved.  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Author's Notes:   
  
Radka: Yup; poor Dumbledore's patience isn't infinite...  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Filch may find out about Crouch's impersonation of Moody eventually, but   
he wasn't on the "need to know" list at the time.  
  
Yes, chapter 6 was a bit shorter than usual. This chapter is a bit longer, I think.  
  
My e-mail address is: ozmaz2002@yahoo.net (I guess I should put this up on my author page. Assuming   
it's acknowledging my existence at the moment.)  
  
I would love to be e-mailed when new Uric chapters are up!!!  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! (I'm taking a brief break from collating to add my author's notes. I've got Wapas   
all over my living room.)  
  
The idea of a "For Squibs" series is hilarious!  
  
Both Filch and Snape have great difficulty when it comes to letting things go.  
  
Radka: Hi, again and thank you!! I flickered out of existence for a while there... it was scary. I hope the   
spell is broken now.  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! Gehenna has an older sister, a second year, named Lilith (mother of demons, I   
think) and a younger sister, Perdita ("Lost") who is still at home. At home, the girls are called Lil, Henna   
and 'Dita. Their parents were both in Slytherin and the study of Demons is their specialty. They're a nice   
family, in an eccentric, Goth-y sort of way. When Perdita comes to Hogwarts, she will be in Slytherin too.  
  
Yup, I have my menial job because I need those hours to match my children's school schedules. Several of   
my co-workers are also college graduates who have taken the job so they can be with their children after   
school and during vacations.  
  
The job requires no brain-work whatsoever, so I can run story ideas through my head all day long. And   
it's good exercise. (I work in a school kitchen, so I'm more of a house-elf than a caretaker. But we do   
plenty of heavy cleaning, mopping and scrubbing, as well as cooking and serving. The job definitely helps   
me see things from Filch's point of view.)  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Poor Myrtle... she's already haunting a toilet. Even a second death wouldn't be   
worse than that.  
  
The relationship between Filch and the house elves interested me, so I couldn't resist putting Winky into   
the story. I wondered how they would bounce off each other. I enjoyed the affection that developed   
between them. The house elves particularly enjoy pampering Filch, which makes him uncomfortable   
sometimes. He feels a bit in awe of the elves... the only beings in the Castle who do more physical labor   
than he does. Filch envies them their particular brand of magic, but he isn't bitterly jealous of them   
because they're enslaved.  
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!! Moody would argue that Snape went right for his throat, with the comment   
about him being tricked and locked up in his own trunk. So he retaliated with the most vicious remarks he   
could think of. It really wasn't fair of Moody to do that, since Snape is so much more ill than he is, but   
Moody is unaccustomed to pulling his punches.  
  
TangledAria: Thank you!!  
  
HLB: Thank you!!! It's an honor to be asked!! I await your reply!!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Filch wasn't present when Dumbledore asked Moody for an explanation, but   
he will probably get to hear what happened from Poppy, who had a ringside seat.  
  
Moody definitely has a mean streak. (I'm assuming that Barty Crouch, junior had him down pat, since he   
fooled even Dumbledore for ten months, no easy feat.)   
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Yes, "Death Eater" and "Slytherin" aren't synonymous... Salazar's Door Does   
Not Approve of the followers of the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, for Snape, the Door's protective spells are   
incapable of distinguishing between a true Death Eater and a Double Agent.  
  
Poppy can control Moody and Snape by threatening to get the Headmaster after them, if they behave too   
badly. 


	8. Home Fires

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
sequel to "Squib Doors  
Chapter 8: Home Fires  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
I stood and shivered in the chill, evening air, watching Hagrid work. The big man was scattering   
giant-sized handfuls of small, blue crystals over a sizable patch of raked over, blackened ground. I was   
supposed to be helping him. But he wouldn't let me do anything.  
  
The fact that I was covered with bruises, with my right arm bound up in a sling, probably had   
something to do with that.  
  
Hagrid had taken one look at me, sighed and shaken his head. Reaching into a pocket of that   
moleskin monstrosity he wears, he'd pulled out a bottle and shoved it into my good hand.  
  
"Here, Filch. Yeh need it. An' it'll warm yeh up a bit."  
  
I usually refuse anything that Hagrid offers me to drink. I've got no head for drinking and I   
suffer terribly on the mornings after, on the rare occasions when I do indulge. Right now, none of that   
mattered. A drink was something that I needed, desperately. I didn't know what was in the bottle. I didn't   
much care, either. Whatever it was, it burned its fiery way down my throat and into my stomach.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid," I whispered.   
  
******  
  
Earlier that day, a bonfire had been blazing on the spot where Hagrid and I now stood.  
  
Professors Sinistra, Flitwick and Vector had been keeping the pyre floating just off the ground.   
They were also maintaining strong, protective spells to prevent anything harmful from escaping the   
inferno with the smoke or the ashes.   
  
"Those cursed vines have seeds," Professor Sprout had said, triumphantly. "Much too small to   
see. They've been attaching themselves to people; their hair and robes, and spreading through the   
dungeons..."  
  
Now that she knew her enemy's most insidious form, Sprout had created a spell to force the vine-  
seeds to glow brightly, revealing themselves. Aided by Dumbledore, she was going through every inch of   
the dungeons.  
  
The bonfire contained items from all over the dungeons, contaminated by the vines. Rugs, wall   
hangings, bed curtains. Anything that Professor Sprout and her best Herbologists had deemed both   
"questionable" and "expendable."  
  
A few of Professor Sprout's best Herbology students, Neville among them, had taken charge of a   
smaller collection. Things from the Slytherin first year dormitories that had been "contaminated" but were   
too precious to burn. Many children, away from home for the first time, will need the comfort of a   
familiar doll, or an old, stuffed bear. (Not that I know much about children really, but you can't work at a   
school like Hogwarts for as long as I have, and not know something like that.)  
  
Slytherin children are no different from the rest in that respect.  
  
"We'll do our best to clean these up..." one of Sprout's seventh years had promised the youngest   
Slytherins.   
  
"Poor little mites..." I'd heard her murmur under her breath.  
  
The Slytherins, of course, were still busily sorting out items in their own dormitories. But the job   
of searching out vine-seeds in the dungeons had spread to include almost everyone in the Castle; house   
elves, students of all four houses, the Professors and the ghosts, who were particularly adept at spotting   
glowing nests of seeds.  
  
The dungeons of Hogwarts Castle were as lively as a recently kicked over anthill.  
  
I was heading down the front steps, with a bundle of rugs meant for the bonfire, when I saw him.   
  
Exhausted from days spent barely eating or sleeping, it took me a moment to recognize my worst   
nightmare.   
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Clad in a long, black traveling cloak, he was standing at the foot of the stone steps.  
  
I froze as if Petrified by a Basilisk. The thuds and thumps as I dropped the bundles of rugs I'd   
been carrying, hardly registered.  
  
"You," he said, in his elegant drawl. "Take me to Headmaster Dumbledore. At once."  
  
For months, I had felt ill and frightened in the presence of the children of Death Eaters. Young   
Slytherins who had not yet chosen their path.  
  
Now, here was the real thing. The wizard who'd had me chained up in a freezing pit and ordered   
his underlings to cut bits and pieces off me, so that he could try to use my blood, flesh and bone to work   
an ancient, Dark spell.  
  
"N-no..." I said. "I c-can't do that. You can't..."  
  
I wasn't supposed to remember what I had suffered at his hands. But I did. I remembered   
everything.   
  
Lucius Malfoy was climbing the steps towards me.   
  
I hastily pulled the Castle's front door closed and then I blocked his way. The Castle's front door   
has protective spells of its own. Students, staff and Professors could enter freely. Everyone else had to be   
escorted. He knew that.  
  
I tried to face Lucius Malfoy bravely, though the memories were making me tremble inside.   
Blood. Pain. Cold.  
  
Merlin, protect me.   
  
Don't let what I remember show in my face. Don't let him see.  
  
Merlin, protect poor Severus, lying ill in the hospital wing upstairs.  
  
Snape had lied to this Dark wizard. He'd said that he'd had put a memory charm on me.  
  
If Malfoy discovered the truth, I would not be the only one who suffered.   
  
"You can't come in..." I said, more firmly. My eyes locked on his.  
  
There, that was better.   
  
"I insist!" Lucius Malfoy said icily. "I have just heard some very distressing news. Three of   
Draco's friends have owled their parents, saying that he has been severely injured, by some plant that's   
invaded the Slytherin dormitories!"  
  
He reached me, and stood at the top of the steps, looming over me. "Since I have not yet heard   
from Draco myself, I am assuming that my son is too badly hurt to write me a letter! I demand to speak   
with Dumbledore, immediately! How could he have allowed this to happen?"  
  
"The Headmaster had nothing to do with what happened!" I exclaimed.   
  
Lucius Malfoy looked as if the dirt beneath his feet had suddenly taken on a human form and   
gained a voice. His gaze was impersonal and disapproving, as if he were observing a disobedient house   
elf. I was nothing to him. Less than nothing.  
  
"Don't be insolent," he said, dangerously. "You have been told to take me to Albus Dumbledore.   
Do so. At once."  
  
Insolent! Well! No one has ever had cause to call me that before. Oh, I'm usually grumpy, but I   
generally give adult witches and wizards the respect that they deserve...!  
  
Then again, this man was a Death Eater. He did not deserve my respect.   
  
"The Headmaster is a very busy man," I said, brusquely. Inside, I was shaking with terror that I   
couldn't show openly. I was playing with fire and Darkness, and I knew it. I was frightened, but it was   
oddly exhilarating, too.   
  
Then Lucius Malfoy gripped my right arm, twisting it, hurting me. I couldn't get free. He was   
very strong. His hand felt like iron.   
  
Causing pain came so easily to him. It was second nature.  
  
"You. Will. Take. Me. Inside. Now."  
  
With each word, he wrenched my arm further behind my back. The joint in my shoulder   
protested.   
  
Eyes as cold and grey as swirling mist locked on mine.  
  
"Do as you are told... Squib."  
  
He spun me around, so that both of us were facing the Castle's front door.  
  
The pain in my shoulder and arm was making me dizzy. I wasn't even aware that I'd summoned   
my Door until I saw it.  
  
Black-and-yellow.  
  
The tapestry had appeared on the huge oak front door of Hogwarts Castle.   
  
Lucius Malfoy was staring right at the faded tapestry. He didn't seem to see it.   
  
And he was dragging us forward, together.  
  
The memory of Snape's agony filled me with shame, and would probably haunt me forever.   
Taking Lucius Malfoy through black-and-yellow would kill him outright. Could I really do that   
deliberately? To anyone, even Lucius Malfoy? Of course I could, if I truly feared for my life. But such was   
not the case, now.  
  
It wouldn't be an accident this time. It would be premeditated, cold-blooded murder.  
  
I hated this man with all my heart! His death would not grieve me in the slightest. But I didn't   
want to be the cause of it. He might be here for some Dark purposes. But he was also here as a father,   
worried about his son...  
  
I tried to send my Door away. I tried. But black-and-yellow didn't seem inclined to go.  
  
"Stop..." I gasped, struggling with Lucius Malfoy.  
  
At the same time, Hagrid shouted "STOP!"  
  
Still twisting my arm behind my back, Lucius Malfoy turned, pulling me with him.  
  
Hagrid stood at the foot of the stone steps. There were four students with him. Through eyes that   
were watering with pain, I saw Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron and Ginny Weasley. My small, red-  
haired friend was looking up at me, anxiously.  
  
"Hagrid." Malfoy said coldly. "I'm here to see Dumbledore."  
  
"Malfoy." Hagrid growled. "D'yeh have an appointment?"  
  
Sick with fear, and the knowledge that Malfoy was only a few steps away from a messy, painful   
death at my hands, one I wasn't sure that I could prevent, I snorted with terrified, helpless laughter.   
  
An *appointment!* Oh, that was brilliant! I wished I'd thought of it...  
  
Hagrid's eyes widened as he looked past Malfoy and me. To my surprise, I realized that he   
noticed the Door. He appeared to know exactly what it was.  
  
"Jus' let Mr. Filch go, Malfoy. An' I'll send someone to fetch the Headmaster for yeh." Hagrid   
said.  
  
The big man sounded a bit more conciliatory now.   
  
Lucius Malfoy thought that Hagrid was only worrying about what might happen to me. The   
Death Eater didn't know that he was in mortal danger, too.  
  
Malfoy made an angry sound. I didn't hear the spell he muttered. But, it was as if a huge hand   
had picked me up, dangling me in mid-air. Suddenly I was thrown down the stairs, with sickening force,   
directly at Hagrid.  
  
Hagrid is half-giant. Giants are an elder race. It's said that their bones are stronger than stone,   
sturdy as the mountains. It may be true. When Hagrid caught me, I felt as if I'd been thrown hard, against   
a stone wall. The pain made me cry out.  
  
"Ooof!" The big man grunted, nearly knocked off his feet. He was able to keep his balance,   
barely. He supported me with one arm. Stunned, barely conscious, I would have fallen otherwise.   
  
"H-he... I-I..." I choked. "Hagrid... I wasn't going t-to... I *wasn't*...."  
  
"It's all righ,' Filch," Hagrid said, gruffly. "Yeh've done no wrong..."  
  
He was breathing a bit raggedly. I supposed that being bludgeoned with a squib had not been the   
high point of his day, either.  
  
The four children with Hagrid moved in front of us, protectively. It was a foolhardy thing to do,   
but they were a group of Gryffindors.  
  
The Castle's front door opened, from the inside, interrupting the stand-off.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy. I understand that you wish to see me?"  
  
It was the Headmaster. His voice was calm.  
  
"Yes," Lucius Malfoy said, icily. "I do."  
  
"You had better come in then," Dumbledore said.  
  
His voice held none of his usual gentleness, or good humor. He sounded every bit as hard as   
Hagrid's unyielding giant bones.  
  
Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore walked into Hogwarts Castle, side by side.  
  
******  
  
The next thing I knew I was in Hagrid's hut, lying on his huge bed. I supposed that I must have   
fainted.  
  
I ached like I'd been beaten. When I groaned, Ginny Weasley was suddenly beside me, holding   
one of Hagrid's bucket-sized teacups.  
  
"Here, Mr. Filch, drink this..." she said, helping me sit up, so I wouldn't spill tea all over   
Hagrid's quilt.  
  
"What were yeh thinkin,' yeh old git?" Hagrid demanded. "Talkin' ter Lucius Malfoy that way!   
Yeh know what he is! Yeh're lucky that he didn't..."  
  
"What?" I said, wincing. "Throw you at me instead? The result would have been the same... one   
black and blue squib. How long was I...?"  
  
"Jus' a few minutes. I brought yeh in here. Ginny came in, t'help me look after yeh. Malfoy   
wanted ter see Draco in the hospital wing, an' I thought it best ter keep yeh out o' his way fer a bit."  
  
Hagrid's usually ruddy face was pale. "An' Malfoy, that slimy git, was very lucky too, Filch.   
Wasn't he?"  
  
I nodded, my face as pale as Hagrid's.   
  
No one had told me that Hagrid was on the "Need to Know" list. But, when I thought about it, he   
was an obvious choice.   
  
Of course, the Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts would need to know about every Door.  
  
(It occurred to me that I ought to be told the name of everyone who knew about my Doors. I was   
going to have to speak to the Headmaster about this, sometime soon.)  
  
Ginny said quietly, "You could have done to Mr. Malfoy what you did to Professor Snape. But   
you didn't."  
  
I choked on the tea.  
  
"Ginny...! How did you...?" I asked, shame-faced.  
  
"Neville told me. Please don't be angry at him. I've been worried about you and I didn't know   
why you've been so upset these past few days. Neville thought I'd feel better if I knew the reason. He was   
right."  
  
Her eyes were bright with sympathy. "Professor Snape is your friend. You never meant to hurt   
him."  
  
"He's not my friend!" I sputtered, spilling tea all over myself and the quilt. "I don't have friends!   
He's... just....  
  
I sighed, looking at her sweet, little face.   
  
"Oh, Ginny. Professor Snape is not my friend any longer..." I said, sadly. "He's never going to   
forgive me for what I did to him."  
  
"Maybe he will..." Ginny comforted me. "Once he finally feels better. Professor Snape has done   
much harder things in his life than forgive a friend, I'm sure of it." She patted my shoulder.  
  
"And you still do have friends," she added, fiercely. "You have me. And Neville. And Mrs.   
Norris! I'm glad that you didn't kill Draco's father," she went on. "Even if he is..." her voice broke off,   
and she shuddered.  
  
"They would have sent you to Azkaban, and it's a terrible place, isn't it, Hagrid?" she said, her   
face so pale that all her freckles stood out. "Mrs. Norris wouldn't have liked it there at all. You know that   
she goes wherever you go."  
  
She smiled at me. "Mrs. Norris is probably looking all over the Castle for you now. She's going   
to be out of sorts because you've wandered off again."  
  
I managed a wry smile too. I've never showed it openly before, but I've cared for a few students,   
here and there, over the years. Still, the strength of my feelings for Ginny and Neville was something new   
to me.  
  
I wondered what Ginny's brothers made of her friendship with the surly old caretaker and his   
cat. Once, when I asked Ginny, she'd grinned.   
  
"My brothers all know that you saved me and Neville from the vines. When I try to tell them that   
you and Mrs. Norris are really quite nice, they look at me as if I've gone mental."  
  
"Ginny, you mustn't go about telling people that I'm *nice.*"  
  
"Why not? You are!"  
  
The memory made me smile again, in spite of how dreadful I felt. When I drank as much of the   
tea as I could, I handed the cup back to Ginny.  
  
Hagrid and Ginny tried to make me lie down and rest for a while, but I just sat on the bed and   
fretted.  
  
A horrible thought had just struck me, with a thud heavier than a squib smashing against a half-  
giant.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy! He's going up to the hospital wing and he knows about what's happened in the   
Slytherin dormitories! What if he tells Professor Snape? Severus doesn't know yet..." I said, distressed.  
  
"I can't let that happen. I have to stop him."  
  
Hagrid gave a shout. One of the walls of his hut had just ...shifted.  
  
The three of us stared incredulously as a faded, nondescript tapestry appeared on the wall, nearest   
the bed.  
  
"I didn't know yeh could do that in my house...!" the big man said.  
  
"Neither did I..." I said, wide-eyed.  
  
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Filch doesn't know that Ginny has a very personal reason to dislike Lucius Malfoy. Ginny is not going to   
tell him either, because she knows that Filch would probably then go and yank the Death Eater through   
Helga's Door to avenge her, and damn the consequences.  
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!!  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Myrtle is a character that I can't help feeling sorry for. No self-esteem, stuck in a   
bathroom for all eternity... I would like to make her "grow" a little, but I don't think she will allow that. A   
"mute" button, I think I can manage, though.  
  
The image of "Baby Severus" made me laugh out loud!  
  
Despite her motherly, nurturing personality, Poppy has been sorely tempted to bang Moody and Snape's   
heads together. Hard.  
  
I have an image in my mind of Snape's Boggart. It would be shifting between the forms of his Slytherins,   
all of them either dead or dying or bearing Dark Marks on their arms. I don't know if I will use this   
image in a story or not, but it's in my head.  
  
More Slytherins next chapter.  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, Filch had to realize that Draco, Crabbe and Goyle are still only children.   
Severus believes that he still has a chance to save them, and I wanted Filch to see that they're not just   
younger copies of their fathers.  
  
Yes, Moody will hit below the belt, but there are lines he won't cross. Eventually, we will hear a little   
more about what Dumbledore said to Moody, regarding the stunt he pulled. (I meant to get to that this   
chapter, but it didn't work out that way.)  
  
It's partially the Slytherins' fault that no one trusts them, but it's also true that they really don't get a fair   
chance with people in the other houses.   
  
Yes, Moody thinks like a fighter, and it's one of the things that he's trying to teach Filch how to do. His   
success may be limited. Filch will defend himself well when cornered, but -despite all his grumpiness and   
grouchiness- the caretaker is not really a ruthless man.  
  
Snape does realize that Filch didn't mean to hurt him as badly as he did. Severus would never admit this   
to anyone (barely even to himself) but he considers Filch a friend. And he feels betrayed. Snape also feels   
terribly humiliated and chagrined. He never saw Filch as a true threat. The man is "just" a Squib, after all.  
  
Yes, Severus does agree with pretty much everything that Moody said to Filch about him. This doesn't   
improve his temper.   
  
Winky's had experience nursing Barty Crouch junior back from the brink of death, so it seemed like a   
natural thing to have her help out in the hospital wing and find solace there. She still loves Mr. Crouch,   
Senior, just as much as ever and is still mourning him, deeply. But, life goes on, even for house elves.  
  
Moody's stunt with the Door was one of the other reasons why I chose Moody to be Filch's teacher,   
instead of Lupin. Lupin would have not done something so foolhardy. (Well, maybe back in his Marauder   
days, he would have. But not now.)  
  
Yes, both McGonagall and Filch have softer hearts than the children at Hogwarts realize. The few times   
that Rowling has shown Minerva's gentler emotions it's been obvious that she cares very deeply. Poor   
Filch only got to show emotion once, when Mrs. Norris had been Petrified. But it certainly was   
memorable when he went all to pieces and wept like a child, not caring who saw him. Like Harry, I   
couldn't help but feel sorry for him.  
  
About Minerva, and Moaning Myrtle, I first saw this idea in Alchemine's story, "June Week." Minerva   
knew Moaning Myrtle when she was alive. If Myrtle had lived, she would now be a woman not much   
younger than Minerva, but Myrtle never had the chance to grow up. Minerva will always treat Myrtle with   
politeness.  
  
Snape wanted to yell at Filch, but he felt too ill and didn't have the strength. So he told him to go away.   
Then, when Snape saw that his silence was worse than any amount of yelling, he decided that the silent   
treatment would be a *most* effective way of demonstrating his feelings.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! Thank you!! Shadow, don't make the poor Slytherin Wizards any   
grumpier, now...  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Filch will eventually hear some things about Moody's "chat" with   
Dumbledore. But I thought Moody's actual scolding was best left to the imagination.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Yes, Snape will eventually find out about the vines invading the Slytherin Dorms.   
  
Emma: Thank you!! 


	9. Heartbreak

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 9: Heartbreak  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Hagrid, Ginny and I stared at the nondescript tapestry that had just appeared on the wall of   
Hagrid's hut.  
  
"Which one is it?" Ginny asked me.  
  
"It's black-and-yellow again," I said. No one, except for me and Mad Eye Moody, can tell the   
Doors apart. "The same one that Lucius Malfoy almost dragged me into."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy did throw you down the front steps," Ginny said. "Maybe It wants to make sure that   
you're all right."  
  
I blinked at her in surprise. Trust Ginny to sense the personalities inside my Doors. Not even   
Moody could do that.  
  
But the Headmaster knew about them too. Dumbledore had told me that the Doors had an   
awareness, when I'd first shown them to him.  
  
"The magical tools created by powerful witches and wizards can acquire a life of their own," he'd   
said. "The Tapestries have been ...lonely. I believe that they are quite pleased that someone is finding   
them useful again."   
  
I remembered something else that Dumbledore had told me.  
  
"With more training I believe you may be able to learn how to summon them at will and use   
them to take you anywhere inside the Castle. Or maybe even outside, within its boundaries."  
  
"Hagrid...?" I asked, "the protective spells from the Castle... they extend out here to your house,   
don't they?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeh can't Apparate or Disapparate from here, if that's what yeh mean."  
  
Ginny's eyes went even wider. "Does that mean you can call them to you anywhere inside the   
Castle's defensive spells, Mr. Filch? How far around the Castle do the spells go?"  
  
"I don't know, exactly," I said, climbing stiffly off Hagrid's bed.  
  
"Maybe it's written down somewhere, in `Hogwarts, A History,'" Ginny murmured, thoughtfully.   
"I can always ask Hermione. She'll know, if anyone does."  
  
"I'm truly sorry about this, Hagrid," I said, limping towards my Door. "But Professor Flitwick   
has nearly perfected an Unreachable Charm, if you want a way to keep me out."  
  
"Not that I'd really *want* to come barging in here, uninvited, mind you..." I added in a lower   
voice.  
  
"Where d'yeh think yeh're goin'?" Hagrid demanded, catching me as I stumbled.  
  
"I've already told you, you great oaf!" I said, irritably. "To the hospital wing!"  
  
"Listen ter me, yeh old git! Malfoy was headed there. Yeh want to keep yehself out 'o his way!   
The Headmaster can look after Professor Snape!"  
  
I shook my head. He didn't understand!   
  
I could not explain, not in front of Ginny. And I wasn't sure how much Hagrid really knew about   
Snape's role as Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters, anyhow.  
  
But I knew that Dumbledore could not afford to let Lucius Malfoy see how deeply he cared about   
Severus. Malfoy must see Snape only as a loyal Death Eater, a hidden turncoat within the Castle. So much   
depended on that.  
  
The Headmaster's ability to shield Snape from anything that Malfoy might say or do to him in   
anger, would be very limited.  
  
"I don't have time to argue about this!" I said. "Thank you for the tea, Ginny... Hagrid."   
Struggling out of Hagrid's grip, I strode through my Door.  
  
"Take me to the hospital wing," I said to black-and-yellow. "To Professor Snape."  
  
******  
  
Black-and-yellow did precisely as I asked. I stepped into the hospital wing's back ward, near the   
bed where Severus Snape had spent most of the past week recuperating from a trip through green-and-  
silver.  
  
The scene that I walked into was even worse than I'd thought it would be.  
]  
The room was dim. Not dim enough to hid the fact that the Professor was not in his bed.   
  
Severus Snape's body was very weak. But his magic was as powerful as ever. It crackled around   
him as he stood, framed in the doorway that separated the back ward from the front one.  
  
Looking past him, I could see Lucius Malfoy.   
  
The Dark wizard was near his son's bed, in the front ward, facing Severus. His power also hissed   
and roiled around him. He did not notice me in the shadows. His grey eyes, now the color of storm clouds,   
were fixed only on Severus.  
  
I'd been afraid that this would happen. Accusing Dumbledore of negligence had not provoked the   
Headmaster sufficiently enough to satisfy Lucius Malfoy. So he had accused Professor Snape as well.  
  
I'd expected Alastor Moody to be mixed in, right in the middle of this, but the old Auror was   
nowhere in sight. Poppy had said that he might be well enough to be released from the hospital wing   
today. Apparently he had been. It was doubtful that he was well enough to leave the Castle entirely. I   
supposed that he was in the dungeons, lending a hand (and a magical eye) to the search for the vine-seeds.   
  
This situation was volatile enough with just two angry Slytherins.  
  
Albus Dumbledore stood, beside Draco's bed, across from Lucius Malfoy. His power was a tightly   
controlled inferno, held in check, at least for the moment.  
  
The Headmaster saw me.   
  
He frowned.  
  
Clearly, he also thought that the situation was volatile enough without adding any more   
ingredients to the mixture.  
  
Nervously, I retreated.   
  
I felt helpless. There was nothing that I could do here! I'd been a fool to think that I could have   
done anything to stop this!  
  
Poppy Pomfrey was sitting on the edge of Draco's bed. I could sense her magic as well, powerful   
as Malfoy's or Snape's. It was focused entirely on Draco, surrounding the injured, sleeping child like a   
protective barrier.  
  
Draco had obviously been given a very strong sleeping draught. There was no other way that this   
confrontation could have failed to awaken him.  
  
The two Slytherin wizards were not shouting at each other. Their voices were quiet and deadly   
cold. But the effect was worse than if they'd been bellowing.  
  
"I was never told, Lucius!" Severus's voice was acrimonious, the way he sounds when he's   
furious at everyone and everything, including himself.   
  
"I did not know that the vines had gotten into the dormitories....!" He was shaking with barely   
suppressed fury.  
  
"It was your business to know!" Lucius Malfoy threw his words at Severus like razor-sharp   
shards of ice. His usually elegant voice grew harsh.  
  
"Do you think it is enough to simply lie in bed, Severus, and wait to be *told* what is happening   
in the castle? You should have *known!* You should have been *there!*"  
  
"How could you have let this happen to Draco?" Malfoy added, contemptuously.  
  
Wrath, over the secret that had been kept from him, warred with pain and guilt on Severus's   
pale, gaunt face.   
  
He had no answer for Malfoy.  
  
Lucius Malfoy pressed his advantage. "Why did you not keep me informed about those insidious   
things growing throughout the dungeons of this castle? Why didn't you tell me about this terrible danger   
to my son!?"  
  
"The children of Slytherin are my responsibility..." Snape said, bitterly.   
  
"Yes! Exactly! And you have failed miserably to protect them from the perils in this Den of   
Lions!!"  
  
Again, Snape had no answer for him. His thin face twisted in anguish.  
  
Malfoy's control, such as it was, snapped.  
  
Suddenly, his wand was in his hand. More quickly than I would have believed possible, Lucius   
Malfoy flung some dark and vicious spell at Severus.  
  
My gasp of horror was drowned out by Poppy's cry.  
  
Equally swift, Snape's wand was moving as well. He launched a counter-curse at Malfoy.  
  
As fast as they were, Albus Dumbledore was faster.  
  
Wand blazing in his hand like a torch, he shouted something. It sounded like a thunderclap. The   
Headmaster's power, no longer muted or held in check, swept through the room.  
  
"ENOUGH!" The Headmaster roared.  
  
Both Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape staggered as Dumbledore wrenched control of their spells   
away from the younger wizards.   
  
Their spells seemed to implode halfway between Malfoy and Snape, with a deafening crack and a   
blinding flash.  
  
Even before the flash faded, Dumbledore was speaking another mighty thunderclap-word.   
Malfoy's wand and Snape's wand leaped from their hands and flew to land on the bed, next to Poppy, who   
scooped them up.  
  
Severus slid to the floor, trembling, with his back against the door frame. He buried his face in   
his hands.   
  
Snape did not see the swift look of pain that crossed Dumbledore's face when he gazed at the   
Potions Master, huddled on the floor.  
  
Lucius Malfoy's face grew pale and he swayed, nearly falling.  
  
Draco moaned in his sleep. Perhaps some of the dark emotions and angry spells in the room had   
penetrated into the child's dreams.   
  
Poppy cradled the boy in her arms, murmuring soothing words.  
  
I cowered, hidden in the shadows, unable to take my eyes off what was happening.  
  
"There will be no brawling in here." Dumbledore's voice had grown very quiet. It was the soft   
rumble of a lion, with his claws unsheathed.  
  
"Is that understood, Severus?"  
  
"Yes, Headmaster," I heard Snape say in a toneless voice.  
  
"Is that understood, Lucius?" The lion's rumble was even more pronounced now.  
  
Lucius Malfoy said nothing for a long moment.  
  
"Yes..." he hissed, finally. "Though, remember, I blame you for this, as much as I blame Snape!"  
  
He looked over at Draco, his face filled with pain.  
  
No matter what else I knew about Lucius Malfoy, or what I thought about him, I could not doubt   
that he loved his son.  
  
"The lives of all the children here are precious to me," Dumbledore said, quietly. "I blame myself   
as well. But there is nothing that Severus could have done to prevent Draco from being hurt."  
  
"Professor Snape has been unwell, for many weeks now." The Headmaster continued, curtly, as   
he moved between the two Slytherins. The fierce expression on his usually mild blue eyes was frightening.   
He looked capable of doing almost anything to them if they angered him again.  
  
"The initial battle with the vine-creature took what little strength he had. He was not informed of   
the vines' recent incursion into the Slytherin dormitories because he was already seriously ill. He could   
not have protected the children and he would have almost certainly lost his own life, besides."  
  
"Professor Snape will not say what is wrong with him," the Headmaster continued, angrily. He   
will not allow Poppy to examine him as completely as she would like. He will not allow us to help him."   
A sub-vocal growl of frustration was apparent in the rumble of Dumbledore's voice.  
  
I saw Lucius Malfoy flinch.  
  
Of course, Lucius Malfoy knew the source of Professor Snape's first "mysterious illness." He had   
undoubtedly been present when He Who Must Not Be Named had used the Cruciatus Curse on Severus,   
probably pushing the unforgivable curse to the very limits of the Potions Master's sanity and endurance.  
  
"Good!" I thought, viciously, my fury at Lucius Malfoy overpowering my own terrible guilt for a   
moment. "Maybe you'll learn to stand between Severus and the Dark Lord's anger! Particularly since it's   
Severus who bears the ultimate responsibility for watching over your own precious son!"  
  
Severus flinched too. Some of the Headmaster's words had been to maintain Snape's cover as a   
spy. But Dumbledore's frustration with the way that Severus refused to look after himself properly was   
certainly real enough.   
  
There was plenty of guilt and blame to go around. Including a generous amount for me, the real   
reason that Professor Snape was still an invalid.   
  
But I couldn't help being glad that the Headmaster had finally put a portion of blame where it   
ultimately belonged; with the Dark Lord, and his Death Eaters.   
  
There was a long moment of silence.  
  
"I am not leaving Hogwarts Castle until I have a chance to speak to Draco," Lucius Malfoy said,   
finally, his voice harsh. "Since he will not awaken for several hours I demand to see the children of   
Slytherin, the dungeons, those seeds, and whatever damage has not yet been repaired. You can not refuse   
me, Dumbledore!"  
  
"I would not dream of refusing you, Lucius. Come. Severus and Draco both need their rest. I   
shall accompany you."  
  
******  
  
Lucius Malfoy had retrieved his wand. He'd given Draco a fiercely protective look before   
sweeping out of the room.  
  
The Headmaster had paused, exchanging a glance with Severus, who still sat on the floor. Snape   
had met Dumbledore's eyes briefly, his expression twisted with pain and shame. He'd buried his face in   
his hands again as the Headmaster had followed Lucius Malfoy from the room.  
  
Poppy settled Draco back on his bed and smoothed the boy's pale hair. Then she stood up.  
  
She and I reached Severus at the same time. Both of us helped him to his feet.  
  
Professor Snape let us help him, unprotesting, almost docile. Poppy and I supported him slowly   
back to his bed. His confrontation with Lucius Malfoy had taken whatever strength he had been able to   
muster.  
  
"You did not tell me." Snape's voice was dull with fatigue. "None of you told me. Not Albus. Not   
poor Draco or Pansy or any of my children. *Why?*"  
  
"None of us wanted to worry you, Severus," Poppy said gently, pulling his blanket around him.   
"We thought it was for the best." She returned his wand to him, resting it beside his pillow.  
  
"Really..." Snape clearly wanted to snarl, but he was too weary and his voice cracked. "Was it   
'for the best' that I learned what happened when Lucius Malfoy came in here, shouting about my   
negligence...?"  
  
The pain and exhaustion in his voice tore at both my heart and Poppy's.  
  
"Lucius was right. I failed them..." Severus whispered. "I should have been there."  
  
I had never heard him sound so lost, so broken.  
  
"It's not your fault that you weren't there, Professor," I said. "We both know that."  
  
He shut his eyes, as if he couldn't bear the sight of me.  
  
Poppy gave Severus's blankets a final tug and rested her hand gently against his face.  
  
"Leave me alone," Snape said, softly. "Please."   
  
To my shock, I saw the glitter of tears in his fathomless dark eyes.  
  
I didn't comment, but my eyes started stinging too. The sight of him like that went straight to my   
heart. A year's worth of his best sneers and insults couldn't have driven home the point as well as the   
sight of his tears.  
  
He was feeling betrayed by everyone, now.  
  
Dabbing at her eyes as well, Poppy tugged me away from his bed.  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER NINE  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Yes, Lucius is mean, evil and rotten, but I didn't want to fall into the trap of   
leaving him completely without redeeming qualities. Everyone has more than two dimensions, and   
complex people are more interesting to write about.  
  
;-) I loved the image of Filch sticking Lucius's head and shoulders in and out of the Door, though...  
  
Hagrid considers himself one of Dumbledore's defenses against life's unwanted annoyances. The   
Headmaster has done so much for him, he feels that it's the least he can do.  
  
Hagrid and Filch are too different to be truly friends and they are both a mystery to each other. Completely   
different outlooks on life. Still, Filch respects Hagrid more than he realizes. And, you're right, seeing   
Filch stand up to Malfoy (and restrain himself from doing his worst) did give Hagrid a new respect for   
Filch. Not that he's going to show it; the shock might do bad things to poor Filch.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! And Thank you!! Excellent insights on the new stuff that Argus is   
learning!   
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, Ginny and Neville are definitely helping Filch heal. Filch had to stand   
up to Malfoy for reasons of his own. In spite of the painful results of the encounter, he will not be as afraid   
of Malfoy the next time they meet.  
  
Yes, Helga's Door disappeared when Albus opened the front door.  
  
The four Founders created their Doors to get around the inconvenience of the "no   
Apparating/Disapparating" Castle defense. So, the Doors can go anywhere inside the Castle's defenses   
where the no A/D spells apply. Filch could make the tapestries appear in thin air, outside, anywhere   
within the Castle's defensive perimeter. He's also not restricted to walls, inside the Castle itself. He could   
also make them appear on ceilings and floors and other doors, if he wants to. He's barely begun to explore   
the possibilities.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! A trip through Salazar's Door would have given Malfoy the slowest death, and   
the only chance for survival, if Filch had brought him through straight to Poppy, like he did with Severus.   
Any of the other three Doors would have killed Malfoy before he emerged. Probably Godric's Door would   
have done it the most painfully, but it's really just a matter of degrees.  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Hagrid can see the Door, because he knows to look for it. He's Keeper of the Keys   
and he's on the "Need to Know" list. All the Doors have a "don't notice me, I'm not here!" spell   
incorporated into them. Filch mentioned that most people's eyes just slide right past the tapestries   
without really seeing them. Lucius was getting a particularly strong dose of "don't notice me" from   
Helga's Door.  
  
Yes, the vines would be deadly to the house elves too.  
  
Emma: Thank you!! And here's more!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! The Doors have a "don't notice me, I'm not here, I'm boring, anyhow" spell among   
their defenses. Yes, exactly! It's a sort of disguise.  
  
Helga's Door was getting very mixed signals from Filch. He was terrified and clearly needed help, even if   
he was thinking "Go away, I don't need you!" The Doors respond to Filch's unspoken wishes, as well as   
his verbal commands. Helga's Door was really confused.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Filch can make the Doors go anywhere within the areas where witches and wizards   
can't apparate/disapparate. He hasn't figured this out yet, but he can make them appear in thin air too.   
They'll "go away" again, as soon as he steps in or out. They will even hover in mid-air, if he summons   
them outside, though they won't wait for him indefinitely if he takes too long to make up his mind about   
stepping in.   
  
(But Helga's Door will wait longer than the other three; It's the most patient.)  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Filch has not yet begun to discover how handy those Doors are. 


	10. Drowning Sorrows

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 10: Drowning Sorrows  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
Behind Hogwarts Castle, down a small hill, there is a desolate stretch of ground where rubbish   
and other things that cannot be gotten rid of any other way have always been burned. Earlier today there   
had been a roaring bonfire here. A great many items contaminated by the seeds of the vine-beast had been   
destroyed in the flames.  
  
Now, as a final precaution, Hagrid was sprinkling small, blue-green crystals of copper sulfate on   
the blackened ground. The crystals would discourage plant growth on this spot. With Professor Snape's   
written permission, Slytherin fifth year Pansy Parkinson had fetched the crystals from his supplies and she   
had brought them out to Hagrid.  
  
I'd seen the note, scrawled on a piece of parchment. Much shakier than the Professor's usual   
neat hand, but still recognizable, Snape had written as if he could barely hold the quill. I didn't know who   
had thought of the crystals or who had asked the Professor for his permission to use them. When I'd last   
seen Snape in the hospital wing, he'd been in no condition to talk to anyone.   
  
Poor, suffering soul. I ached for him. There was nothing I could do to help the Professor. There   
was nothing I could do to ease the terribly heavy feeling of guilt in my heart. I could only try to drown it   
for a little while.  
  
The benefits of drunkenness are one of many things that Hagrid and I usually do not agree on.   
I've never thought that excessive drinking is an acceptable answer to life's sorrows. All the troubles   
you've tried to drown will still be there, waiting, when you finally sober up again. And then, the woes   
must be faced anew with bleary eyes and a head that feels as if it's going to split with pain.  
  
Well... I would never admit this out loud to Hagrid, but he's right. There *are* some occasions   
when getting drunk is really the only thing you can do. For me, at least, the knowledge that a night of   
carousing will inevitably be followed by a morning of suffering, satisfies my need for proper punishment.   
It's as simple and neat as filling out a Detention Form and filing it away, completed.  
  
Mrs. Norris did not approve of what I was doing. Her golden eyes were regarding me   
reproachfully. I'd been anxious about bringing Mrs. Norris out with me, but she'd mewed so piteously   
when I'd tried to leave her at the Castle's front door. She'd looked at me, noting my bruises, and the sling   
supporting my sore right arm and wrenched right shoulder. My cat had decided that I could not be trusted   
to wander about on my own. I would get myself in trouble. Hadn't I learned my lesson earlier today?  
  
Her laid-back ears and lashing tail told me that I'd better not even think of bringing up a certain   
Basilisk, either. She'd gotten herself Petrified once, just once, and I never let her forget it...!  
  
The corridors of Hogwarts are all the world that Mrs. Norris has ever needed or wanted. She is   
not often interested in seeing the world outside the Castle. It's a sentiment that I can sympathize with. I   
feel the same way. Nevertheless, Mrs. Norris stayed beside me, standing guard like a small, dusty sentinel,   
while I sat on the ground in the chill, evening air and drank whatever fiery intoxicant was in the bottle   
that Hagrid had given me.  
  
Hagrid had brought Fang with him too, but the question of dominance was quickly settled with a   
hiss and a quick flash of Mrs. Norris's claws. Fang yelped and retreated, whimpering , to nurse his sore   
nose. Shaking his head, Hagrid patted the boarhound comfortingly and returned to his work.  
  
Fang, the great, slobbering beast, settled himself next to me, on the side opposite from Mrs.   
Norris. He rested his head on my knee. The mournful look in his eyes urged me to be kind to another   
creature who was among the walking wounded. Grumbling, I let Fang leave his head on my knee. He   
drooled. Mrs. Norris ignored him, loftily.  
  
Hagrid had finished spreading the crystals. He sat on the ground, just close enough to reach the   
bottle when I passed it to him. Being too near Mrs. Norris makes him sneeze.  
  
After a few moments, Fang got up and trotted over to lie beside his master.  
  
Hagrid withdrew his battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. He pointed it and suddenly   
there was a small, cheerful fire, burning in midair, over the site of today's bonfire.  
  
He gave me a quick, furtive look, but I didn't comment. (Not even to remind him that he'd been   
proven innocent, and he could have a proper wand now, if he chose.)  
  
We spent a while in companionable silence.  
  
There were ghosts on this small hillside with Hagrid and me. Not real ghosts, like the ones in the   
Castle. Just shadows and memories.  
  
"Jus' like old times..." the big man said, gruffly.  
  
I nodded. It almost seemed like the years had fallen away, leaving both of us younger. Two men,   
many years dead, felt so near that I could almost see them.  
  
Ogg, the gamekeeper before Hagrid. Old Apollyon Pringle, my predecessor as caretaker. The two   
of them had been friends and they had spent many a night out here, drinking together over the years.   
Hagrid, Ogg's apprentice, had been with them, sometimes. I'd joined them, now and again, too. Not to   
drink, just to listen to their talk. Most of what I knew about Pringle, I only knew because I'd overheard   
him talking to Ogg.  
  
Sometimes it's soothing to take refuge in drink and the comforting safety of the past. Hagrid and   
I sat quietly, passing the bottle between us, and remembered them for a while.  
  
******  
  
The muffled *clunk* of Alastor Moody's wooden leg was not as noticeable when he was walking   
outside across the Castle grounds. Still, Hagrid and I looked up as he came down the hill towards us. Fang   
whuffed a soft greeting to Moody, and thumped his tail. Mrs. Norris, now curled up in my lap, dozing,   
slitted one golden eye open and blinked as the old Auror joined us.  
  
The first bottle we'd started on was now empty. Hagrid pulled a second bottle out of another   
pocket and opened it. Neither of us bothered offering the bottle to Moody. He'd pulled out his hip flask   
and taken a seat on the ground between us.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy's left the Castle..." The old Auror said, without preamble.  
  
"Good," Hagrid growled.  
  
Moody turned and looked at me. "Sweet Medea! You look like someone's used you for bludger   
practice. Lucius Malfoy did that, did he?"  
  
I did not bother asking how Mad Eye knew what had happened. I just sighed.  
  
"Are you going to tell me that I should have killed him when I had the chance?" I asked him,   
warily.  
  
Moody shook his head. "No, Filch." He sounded disappointed with me, though.  
  
"It would have been murder." I mumbled. Surely, he hadn't wanted me to kill the man in cold   
blood...  
  
Moody rolled his eyes at me; both the normal one and the magical one. He shook his head.   
"Don't misunderstand me, Filch. You did the right thing," he said. "But it was for the wrong reasons."  
  
I blinked at him, confused.  
  
It was Hagrid who said, "Dumbledore wouldn't a' wanted Lucius Malfoy dead that way. Would   
a' done no end o' harm. Made trouble fer the Headmaster, an' trouble fer Hogwarts."  
  
"An,'" he added, after a moment, "yeh would a' been tossed straight inter Azkaban ter rot, jus'   
like Ginny told yeh this afternoon."  
  
I thought about it. Lucius Malfoy had always been able to cover his tracks, brilliantly. There'd   
been whispered rumors of his involvement with Voldemort for years, but somehow, none of the dirt had   
quite ever managed to stick. As far as the Ministry authorities knew, Lucius Malfoy was a wealthy   
philanthropist and an upstanding member of an old and noble, pure blooded wizarding family.  
  
If he'd been murdered at Hogwarts, by a member of Dumbledore's staff, while trying to visit his   
injured son...  
  
The thought of what the Minister, already defensive and mistrustful of the Headmaster, might   
have done in response, made me shudder.  
  
"You weren't thinking of all the consequences when you decided to take Malfoy on, were you,   
Filch?" Moody said.  
  
He was right. I was completely unaccustomed to thinking of how events in the greater wizarding   
world and events at the school affected each other. Considering such matters made me feel as if the   
ground were slipping out from beneath my feet. Keeping the Castle clean, and the students out of   
mischief... those were the sorts of concerns I was used to dealing with.   
  
Another gulp from the bottle was definitely called for.  
  
"My reasons for sparing him were good enough!" I said, defensively. "There's rules, you know!   
Just because you can do something, doesn't mean you *ought* to do it...!"  
  
Frowning ferociously, Mad Eye took a long drink from his hip flask. Apparently Professor Snape   
was not the only teacher who didn't like it when his students talked back.  
  
"My point is, you've got to learn to look at a situation from every angle!" Moody growled.   
"Think, consider every possible consequence. Then, you come up with a clear plan. Then, finally, you act   
on it!"   
  
He glared at me. "Your risks should always be carefully calculated in advance!"  
  
"A Slytherin's carefully plotted stupidity can be more dangerous than even the most reckless   
Gryffindor's foolhardy, spur of the moment cock-up!" I snapped.   
  
"I know that the Headmaster put it a good deal more eloquently than that! But it's what he   
meant!" I couldn't resist adding.  
  
Moody's scarred face flushed with embarrassment.   
  
Earlier today, while Poppy had been patching me up, she and I had talked about the terrible   
dressing down that Moody had received from the Headmaster. The old Auror had conducted a highly   
dangerous experiment on my Doors, one that could have cost him his life. Albus Dumbledore had not   
been pleased with him.  
  
Poppy had told me that Dumbledore had left the old Auror looking like a beaten puppy.  
  
Moody and I sat and glowered at each other, while Hagrid smothered a laugh.  
  
"I know that killing Lucius Malfoy would have been completely irresponsible and utterly   
reckless..." I continued, waving the bottle for emphasis. "I know it would have been *stupid!*"   
  
"That's enough out a' both o' yeh!" Hagrid said.  
  
"An' speaking o' enough..." he reached over and tugged the bottle out of my hands. "That's more   
'n enough fer you, Filch!"  
  
I bit back a cry of protest, realizing that Hagrid was right.   
  
Moody growled and grumbled, getting himself under control.  
  
"My point..." he said, gruffly, "is that you should have used your head, before you decided to take   
on Lucius Malfoy in the first place."   
  
"I shouldn't have to tell you any of this, Filch! Lucius Malfoy is a powerful Dark wizard. He'd   
just been hit in one of his few vulnerable places. He was worried sick about that boy of his. And you got in   
his way!"   
  
Concern, anger and frustration were all evident in the old Auror's gravelly voice. "He could have   
caused you far greater harm than he did. You were lucky to get off with only bruises. He could have killed   
you, easily! You don't mess about with an enemy like him. If you weren't prepared to take him out,   
without mercy, then you shouldn't have provoked him at all."  
  
"I-I wanted to keep him away from Professor Snape..." I said.  
  
"Snape doesn't need to hide behind you! He can look after himself!" Moody snapped.  
  
I shook my head, not saying anything. I knew it was useless. When it came to the subject of   
Severus Snape, Moody's mind was closed. Poor Severus. He was so much more vulnerable than almost   
everyone who knew him seemed to think. Only Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall seemed to   
understand that Severus was more fragile than he seemed.  
  
"You should have just left Malfoy to the Headmaster! Spared yourself unnecessary pain."   
Moody's voice was quieter, now.   
  
"Think, man," he said. "Did your interference really help Snape at all?"  
  
"No..." I murmured.   
  
Now, I was the one who felt like a puppy that had been beaten.  
  
"I only put Malfoy in an even worse temper..."  
  
I must have sounded as crushed as I felt. Hagrid gave me the bottle back. He patted my shoulder   
awkwardly, and rather gently, for him.  
  
I winced anyhow.  
  
Hagrid changed the subject. "So, how did the Headmaster deal with Malfoy?" The half-giant   
wanted to know.  
  
Moody's harsh grin split his scarred face for a moment. "Albus gave our distinguished guest a   
complete tour of the dungeons. Took him about, showed him all the damage. The Headmaster didn't have   
to say more than a word or two. Everything pretty much spoke for itself."   
  
He shook his grizzled mop of grey hair and sighed. "Some of the Slytherins were glad to take   
Draco's distinguished father into their dormitories and show him what had happened in there, as well."  
  
The old Auror's voice was hard. "I was down there, myself, helping with the clean-up. I saw   
Lucius Malfoy's face, when he came back out into the corridor with the children. He looked ...shaken. His   
face was white as the children's. He's a clever man, Malfoy. No one had to spell it out for him. Slytherin   
house could have been decimated."  
  
No one now was questioning the fairly obvious fact that the vine-beast had been an attack   
primarily against the Slytherins. All of them. Making no distinction between those who were supporters of   
the Dark Lord, and those who were not.  
  
Moody took a long drink from his hip flask. His voice was full of pain. Alastor Moody was a   
Slytherin.  
  
Hagrid and I exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Strangely enough, no one really thought much   
about the fact that the rebirth of He Who Must Not Be Named must cause deep, agonizing rifts in   
Slytherin House. Hagrid and I were no different from most in that respect.  
  
Many of the families with children in Slytherin were ordinary, wizarding families. Ambition, a   
love for power, a gift for subtlety and cunning, these things alone do not make a witch or wizard   
inherently Dark. Teachers. Alchemists. Poets. Artists. Writers. Aurors. Musicians. Quidditch players. All   
of these had been among Salazar's chosen, too.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy looked like that up in the hospital wing," I murmured. "Shaken. The   
Headmaster had made him think that Severus was too ill to protect the children because the Dark Lord   
had used the Cruciatus Curse on him..."  
  
Even the families who followed the Dark Lord most loyally could still fear for the safety of their   
children. I had seen that in Lucius Malfoy's face.  
  
"Then," Moody continued, "after Albus had shown Malfoy everything he'd asked to see, Malfoy   
asked for some of those seeds we were finding everywhere down there. Albus gave him a few, sealed up   
in an unbreakable vial."  
  
"Was that wise..." I asked, nervously. "What if Malfoy gives them to He Who Must Not Be   
Named? The Dark Lord might grow another one of those beasts!"  
  
Moody's smile was a bitter, terrible thing. "Filch," he said, almost gently. "Where do you think   
the vine-creature came from in the first place?"  
  
I was shocked into silence. My one consolation was that Hagrid looked as surprised as I did. He   
hadn't known either.  
  
"Last year..." Moody's voice was even harsher than usual, "an agent of the Dark Lord was able to   
literally plant the original vine-creature in the dirt floor of that dungeon storeroom." The old Auror closed   
both his eyes as if something had hurt him, deeply. His gravelly voice shook.  
  
"This agent considered himself the most loyal of the Dark Lord's servants. He wished to strike   
back at the followers whom he considered less loyal than he was. He wanted to murder their children in   
their beds. And he didn't care who else got hurt along the way."  
  
"An agent of the Dark Lord...?" I faltered, trembling. "Last year... in the dungeons?"  
  
"He's gone now, Filch. Can't hurt anyone, any longer." Moody rasped.   
  
It was a few moments before his voice grew steady again. "When Lucius Malfoy investigates the   
source of the attack that caused so much terror among the Slytherin children, and could have cost them   
the lives of their Prefect and their Head of House, he will find that the evidence all points back to the   
Death Eaters themselves. And, if anyone wants to know why the Head of Slytherin House was seriously   
ill, and incapable of protecting his charges... well, they won't have to look very far for the answer to that   
question either, now will they?"  
  
I couldn't say that I really minded the Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse taking the blame for my   
reckless act against poor Severus. I still felt guilty though.  
  
Moody laughed, without humor. "Ironic, isn't it? Albus hopes it'll give the Dark Lord's followers   
something to think about, at any rate."  
  
******  
  
Mad Eye Moody, it seemed, agreed with Hagrid on the matter of drinking. Sometimes, it's   
really the only sensible thing to do.  
  
We made a strange procession through the corridors of Hogwarts, in the wee hours of the   
morning. Hagrid considered it his duty to make sure that Moody and I both reached our beds without   
falling down too many times, before he and Fang returned to his hut.  
  
The three of us had to lean on each other in order to stay upright. Hagrid was singing in French.   
(At least, I think it was French.)  
  
Our inebriated condition appeared to worry Fang, but Mrs. Norris just looked utterly embarrassed   
to be seen in our company.  
  
We saw no one except Peeves.   
  
The poor poltergeist just shook his head, speechless.  
  
END OF CHAPTER TEN  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! I don't think I can manage two chapters for Easter. I hope that one is okay...  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! No one is going to feel better in the morning after this chapter, either. ;-)   
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!! Lucius is a bastard, all right, but he's a complicated one.  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!! Everyone really did mean well when they tried to protect Severus from the truth.   
Say "Hi!" to Shadow...  
  
Radka: Thank you!!   
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Dumbledore meant to hit Lucius as hard as he could. The Death Eaters may   
not care about the families of the Muggles and Muggle-borns they harm, but for the most part, they aren't   
so devoid of feeling that they've stopped caring for their own children.  
  
It is hard to have Snape actually cry in a fic, and not have him be out of character. (I wanted him to cry a   
bit more, but he was insistent on being restrained about it.)  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! 


	11. Penance

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
sequel to "Squib Doors"  
Chapter 11: Penance  
Everything in the story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
Sometimes I have wished for a window to brighten my dungeon office. This morning, however, I   
was grateful for the dimness. No cheerful sunlight to blind me and make my head throb even more than it   
did already.  
  
I was supposed to be doing paperwork. My desk, usually very tidy, was overflowing with   
incomplete detention forms. But my eyes were so bloodshot that I could barely focus.   
  
The door to my office was shut. The fire was out, leaving the room chilly. I hoped that the   
Professors would take the hint, and not call on me to go running all over the Castle, cleaning up messes. I   
especially hoped that whoever was covering Professor Snape's potions classes today wouldn't need me to   
scrape anything revolting off the ceiling.  
  
Mrs. Norris leaped up into the chair beside my desk. She moved as lightly as ever, but the slight   
sound that she made still seemed to echo inside my pounding head.   
  
She mewed loudly, several times. I winced.  
  
"Please, my sweet, must you be so noisy?" I whimpered.  
  
The expression in my cat's golden eyes was decidedly unsympathetic. Industriously, she began   
washing between her small, grey foot pads. Seeing her moving about so energetically made me wince   
again.  
  
At least my headache served to distract me a little bit from how terribly sore the rest of me felt. I   
was bruised from head to foot. My right shoulder was stiff, and my right arm hurt so much that I could   
barely move my quill.   
  
Quietly, I heaped ineffectual, non-magical curses on Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic head for leaving   
me so battered. I was glad that I had not killed the wretched Death Eater. I could only have killed him   
once. And it would have been over far too quickly!  
  
My writing was clumsy and barely legible, but I managed to make some headway into the pile of   
forms before the lingering effects of too much drink and not enough sleep the night before, caught up with   
me.  
  
Gingerly, I rested my head on the desk, pillowed on my left arm. My eyes shut of their own   
accord.  
  
The smell of fried fish awakened me. Usually, it's a pleasant smell, but today it made my   
stomach churn.  
  
I heard the sound of someone setting a dish on the floor.   
  
A small squeaky voice said, "Hello, Mrs. Norris! Mrs. Norris is hungry?"  
  
A second, even squeakier voice, added, "Mrs. Norris is thirsty?"  
  
Then there was the sound of happy purring, as my cat padded over to inspect her lunch.  
  
A wave of shame swept through me. My poor sweet Mrs. Norris! I had not yet fed her today! No   
wonder she'd been mewing so loudly.  
  
Groaning, I picked my head up. My cat was daintily nibbling at some fish on a china plate. There   
was also a bowl of milk awaiting her attention. Two house elves were crouched on the floor, watching   
Mrs. Norris eat.  
  
Dobby appeared, as always, to have been taking fashion tips from Peeves. He was wearing bright   
purple shorts with a pattern of lime-green leaves on them. He had an orange and blue striped sock on one   
foot, and a black sock on the other. Except for the black sock, all the colors clashed.  
  
Winky, wearing a fluttery royal blue scarf, wrapped around her like a kilt, was a bit easier on my   
eyes.  
  
"Thank you, Winky. Thank you, Dobby..." I murmured. "Mrs. Norris and I really appreciate the   
service."   
  
"Is sir hungry? Dobby asked solicitously.  
  
"Poor Argus Filch is not wanting any food right now, Dobby." Winky's little voice was gentle.   
It's been a while since she found solace in endless bottles of butterbeer. But she clearly had not forgotten   
the aftereffects.  
  
Embarrassed, I muttered, "I-I don't make a habit of this, Winky. You know I don't. It was only....   
I was just..."  
  
"Winky knows, sir." Her huge, brown eyes were full of empathy.   
  
Suddenly, she was on my desk, sitting cross legged among my papers. She touched a bruise on   
my jaw with a careful, tiny hand.  
  
"Argus Filch should go see Madam Poppy," Winky scolded me. "Like poor Alastor Moody. This   
morning poor Alastor Moody is moaning and groaning. He is saying that the sun is too bright, and he is   
wanting to pull both his eyes out and put them someplace dark! But Madam Poppy is helping him, and he   
will soon feel better."  
  
"I can't go up to the hospital wing right now, Winky. I have too much work to do."  
  
Dobby joined Winky on my desk. "Punishment forms, sir?"  
  
Punishment is very serious business to a house-elf. Both of them scanned my forms, anxiously   
making sure that I hadn't been sentencing any of the brats to anything unduly harsh.  
  
"It's just a lot of polishing, sweeping, dusting and scrubbing..." I murmured. "Nothing worse   
than what we have to do, every single day. Except, the brats detest doing it, of course. So, it's torture for   
them."  
  
"But, sir is using no chains!" Dobby noted with satisfaction.  
  
"No chains," I said, resignedly. "The Headmaster won't let me."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore is wise." Dobby said. "No students is being chained at Hogwarts. Just as   
no house-elves is ever being punished here with terrible floggings or with putting ears or fingers in oven   
doors. No bad punishments here, sir!"  
  
Winky looked me up and down, her huge brown eyes sad.   
  
"But, sometimes, Dobby," she said, in a soft, little squeak, "a heart is breaking over a very bad   
thing. Argus Filch is pining over what he has done to Professor Snape. A bad punishment is needed for   
him, or his heart will not ever be mended."  
  
"Dobby understands that sir is pining, Winky," the green-eyed elf said. "Dobby knows that Argus   
Flich is a good Squib who did not mean to do a bad thing."  
  
He gave me a fierce look. "But, sir will please not let bad, Dark wizard throw him down any   
more steps! Tis dangerous, sir! Bad Dark wizard is not knowing the difference between Squibs and house-  
elves. Squibs is much easier to break than house-elves."  
  
"Dobby!" I sputtered in protest. "Do you think I *wanted* Malfoy to do this to me?"  
  
He just looked at me.  
  
Winky looked at me too, upset, her large brown eyes brimming with tears.  
  
"I didn't!" I said, shocked and dismayed.   
  
Then, to my horror, I wondered if maybe, there wasn't some tiny bit of truth to the accusation   
after all. There are times when I feel that the house-elves understand me better than anyone, except Mrs.   
Norris.   
  
Believe me, this is not a comfortable thought.  
  
"Argus Filch..." Winky said softly, "Winky understands that some hearts is never mending. Some   
hurts is never healing. But poor Professor Snape is not killed. Professor Snape can still say what sir must   
do to be forgiven."  
  
"Argus Filch must promise that he will go see Professor Snape when his work is done. Only   
Professor Snape can truly help Argus Filch," Dobby said.   
  
Winky nodded eagerly, long bat-like ears quivering.  
  
"No! I can't!" I cried. "He won't even look at me and I don't blame him."  
  
"Tis just as much for poor Professor Snape's good as it is for the good of Argus Filch," Dobby   
said, earnestly. "Argus Filch will promise?"  
  
"What do you mean it's for Professor Snape's own good? Staying away from him is the kindest   
thing I can possibly do!"  
  
"Does Argus Filch think that poor Professor Snape would have been *glad* if bad, Dark wizard   
had broken sir all to pieces?" Dobby asked me.  
  
"Well, yes, probably." I muttered. "I'm sure that would have pleased him."  
  
Both elves sighed. They looked at each other.  
  
"Argus Filch leaves us no choice..." Dobby said sadly.  
  
Before I could stop either of them, they were making a rush towards the collection of chains and   
manacles on the wall behind my desk.   
  
"Oh, no!" I shouted, ignoring the effect that yelling had on my pounding head. "You leave those   
alone! Those are mine!"  
  
"Argus Filch will get all his things back after he has gone to see Professor Snape!" Dobby said,   
firmly.  
  
"Dobby! You can't do this!"  
  
"Sorry, sir. Dobby can."  
  
Then he and Winky vanished, with a sound like a whip-crack. And all my carefully polished   
chains and manacles disappeared with them!  
  
I stared at my empty office wall in horror, clutching my poor aching head.   
  
Mrs. Norris, finished with her fish and her milk, just sat there calmly, washing her whiskers.  
  
"Did you see that?" I gasped. "What nerve! What infernal cheek! What am I going to do?!"  
  
My cat blinked at me coolly, as if to remind me that Winky and Dobby had already said exactly   
what I had to do.  
  
"B-but I c-can't! Severus won't even see me..."  
  
Her golden eyes were stern.  
  
"Well, I'm going to finish my paperwork first!" I said, defiantly. "I've let it go long enough! And   
I need time to think about what I'm going to say to him. Assuming he does consent to talk to me at all."  
  
My voice shook uncertainly. "You'll come with me, won't you, my sweet?"  
  
She started to purr.  
  
******  
  
Later, with Mrs. Norris on my shoulder, I stepped from black-and-yellow into the corridor   
outside the entrance to the hospital wing. My spirits had been fortified by a clean desk and a neatly filed-  
away stack of completed detention forms.  
  
I could have asked my Door to take me directly to Severus, but I didn't want to barge in on him   
unexpectedly and make him angry.  
  
Angrier.  
  
Hesitantly, I made my way into the front ward. I meant to find Poppy. Maybe she could ask   
Severus if he would talk to me.  
  
But I did not see Poppy.   
  
Instead I saw Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape.   
  
Professor Snape was sitting in a chair beside the boy's bed. He looked paler and thinner than   
ever, though he appeared to be making an effort to seem as much like his usual self as he possibly could.  
  
"...Forgive my father, sir," an almost equally pale Draco was saying, gravely, to Severus.   
  
The boy looked even more vulnerable than he'd looked yesterday, sleeping in Poppy's arms,   
while the grown wizards all fought and argued around him.   
  
"I should have written to Father myself. I would have, as soon as I didn't feel so ill. I know that I   
should have told you about what had happened in the dormitories. You mustn't be angry at Pansy or at   
anyone else."  
  
Draco's voice shook, and he sounded very young. "It was all my fault, sir!. I-I just couldn't... not   
after the way I'd failed you... I should have let Professor Sprout..." the boy's voice broke off, as he and   
Severus became aware that I was there.  
  
Professor and student looked up, with almost identical glares on their pale faces. My intrusion   
into such a private conversation was clearly unwelcome.  
  
I trembled, with a combination of awkwardness and fear. My clothes were suddenly clammy   
with sweat.  
  
The three of us stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.   
  
"I'm sorry...!" I choked out. Clutching Mrs. Norris, I turned to flee.  
  
"Filch," Snape's voice was harsh. "Stop."  
  
The tone of command in his voice made me obey him, instantly. I looked back at the two   
Slytherins, flushing with chagrin.  
  
"What happened to you, you idiot?" Professor Snape demanded.   
  
I remembered that, yesterday, he'd hardly been in any condition to notice I'd been hurt.  
  
Draco said, quietly, "I think my father must have done that to him."  
  
"Is that correct, Filch? Please tell me that you were not stupid enough to actually get in Lucius   
Malfoy's way." Professor Snape said. His voice wasn't as strong as usual, but it was every bit as caustic.   
  
"You may not have enough magic to turn cream into butter, but I always gave you credit for some   
intelligence!" he sneered. "Weren't you thinking? Didn't you realize what he could have done to you?   
You were lucky that you didn't need to be sent up to the hospital wing yesterday in a matchbox!"  
  
I bit my lip, cradling Mrs. Norris and staring down at the top of her small, grey head. Professor   
Snape had not mentioned what I could have done to Lucius Malfoy! Of course, he wouldn't, not in front   
of Draco.   
  
But the expression in his eyes told me that he understood precisely all the ramifications of my   
confrontation with Lucius Malfoy. And he knew just how messy things could have gotten.  
  
I felt an absurd desire to laugh. Professor Snape's lecture on the subject of Lucius Malfoy   
sounded almost exactly like Alastor Moody's. I doubted that either Slytherin would appreciate the   
comparison.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy was... considerably agitated," I said, forcing myself to meet their eyes. "He was   
demanding to see the Headmaster, and speaking of him in ...less than respectful terms. I couldn't just... I   
had to..."  
  
Snape stared at me, as if I were a botched potion that had soiled the floor of his dungeon and   
splattered on his shoes.  
  
Draco Malfoy cleared his throat. "Mr. Filch...?" The boy said.   
  
I blinked and stared at him. It wasn't the first time that he'd ever spoken to me, of course. But it   
was certainly the first time he'd ever done so, politely.  
  
Draco's voice was stiff, and a little cold. But definitely polite. "My father was not aware of how   
you had helped me. When the vine..." He broke off, with a slight shiver, cradling his arm, before he   
continued.   
  
"Please, try to understand. I am quite sure that he would not have been so ...harsh with you if   
he'd known what you had done for me." The heir of the Malfoys met my eyes, steadily, with quiet dignity.  
  
Stunned, I could only stand there in silence. H-had that been a sort of an... apology? Offered by a   
Malfoy to a lowly Squib?  
  
When Neville had told me how Draco had spoken to him politely and asked for his help, I'd been   
surprised enough! What would Neville make of this, I wondered.  
  
Professor Snape looked as if he didn't know quite what to make of it either. For a moment his   
dark eyes went wide and stunned.  
  
And I saw something in his face that surprised me, even more than Draco's apology had done.  
  
Joy.  
  
Draco turned to his Professor, looking nervous, half-pleading, half-defiant. As if he were not   
certain how Snape was going to react to what he'd just said.  
  
By then, Severus had his expression completely under control. What I'd seen in his face was   
masked and hidden.  
  
He regarded the boy coolly.  
  
After a moment Draco was able to meet his teacher's eyes. He was calm, his uncertainty   
swallowed up by pride.   
  
`I know that what I did was correct,' the boy's look said.   
  
Severus's face relaxed, briefly. He gave Draco a barely perceptible nod.  
  
  
******  
  
Draco was busy composing a letter to his mother, to reassure her that he was all right. I watched   
the boy with a sympathy I'd never expected to feel. I knew that the letter, written so painfully, because of   
his injured arm, would be difficult to read, full of inkblots and wavering letters.  
  
I'd looked at Severus, questioningly, wondering why he didn't offer to write for the child.  
  
"Narcissa will not be comforted by anything less than a letter written by Draco himself,"   
Professor Snape murmured. "Yesterday, she was out when Lucius learned what had happened to Draco.   
He left home at once, for Hogwarts, determined to know the worst so he could break the news to her as   
gently as possible. I am sure that Narcissa is beside herself today. Draco knows best what to do."  
  
Professor Snape and I were still in the front ward. He was sitting, stiffly on a bed near a window   
overlooking the grounds near Hagrid's hut. I stood nearby, looking out the window. There was no sign of   
Hagrid. I wondered how the big man was feeling today... if he was as wretched and miserable as Moody   
and me.   
  
Mrs. Norris waited, patient and protective, at my feet.  
  
"Oh," I said, a bit discomfited by this glimpse into the homelife of Lucius Malfoy; a man I hated,   
someone who always seemed to leave me black and blue, at best, or, at worst, half-dead.  
  
Snape looked as if he understood my difficulties. He smiled grimly.  
  
"Professor..." I said, timidly. "I wanted to speak to you. Would you rather go back to your own   
bed so we will not disturb Draco?"  
  
"My own bed," he said, sneering, "is down in the dungeons, Filch. Once I have the strength to   
walk down there, unaided, I shall do so with alacrity, and never look back. If I am ever forced to spend   
another night up here, convalescing from *anything* it will be too soon."  
  
"I-I only meant..."  
  
"I know what you meant. No, I do not wish to go into the other room. Moody is there, with Poppy   
looking after him."   
  
His lip curled in contempt. "He's sleeping off what must have been a very ...interesting evening.   
Disgraceful. I was certain that he had to be the most pathetic sight I was going to see today. And then,"   
Severus's voice became even more caustic, "I set eyes on you!"  
  
"Professor...?" I said, very softly. "I can see that you're feeling better."  
  
"Yes, I am. And no thanks to you."  
  
"Has anyone told you that Professor Sprout has figured out how the vines are spreading? And   
that she knows how to destroy every stage of the creature now?"  
  
He nodded. "Albus told me that himself. Last night, after Lucius had gone."  
  
My voice grew softer. Barely even audible. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me. But I'm   
glad... I'm glad that you seem to have forgiven them. The Headmaster. Draco. Your other children.   
Because they meant well. They never wished to hurt you. Not even a little."  
  
He faced me, his eyes snapping black fire. When he spoke, his voice was a quiet, deadly hiss.   
  
"Forgive them? Of course I forgive them, Filch. How could I do less? I failed my children   
miserably, just as Lucius said. I failed Albus too. He cannot possibly carry all of this Castle on his   
shoulders, unsupported. The children of Slytherin are my charges, my responsibility. No one cares for   
them as I do."  
  
He closed his eyes. "I failed all of them. And yet, whenever I looked at them I saw concern and   
forgiveness for me in their eyes. How could I possibly do less than forgive them?"  
  
How I had misjudged this man. His tears yesterday, his pain, had not been for himself at all.  
  
I blinked back tears.   
  
He glared at me.   
  
"You, on the other hand, did intend to do me harm. Yes, I know that you did not mean to nearly   
kill me. Tell me, how much consolation would that have been if I had died?"  
  
"None, Professor."  
  
"Exactly. I would like nothing better than to toss you down the front steps of the Castle myself!   
Unfortunately, Lucius did it first. Now it would merely be redundant."  
  
"Not to mention the fact that it would spoil Draco's apology..." he added. Smiling.  
  
The look on his face was the same one that had stunned me earlier. He looked like a man who   
had been given a precious gift. Something he had hoped for, worked hard for, but had not known if he   
would ever see.  
  
"Albus told me how Draco went to Longbottom for help," Severus said, very softly. The joy in his   
face and in his voice made me glad. "That is something that I could not bring myself to do directly, even   
now. And certainly not when I was his age."  
  
I remembered something that Minerva had once said to me.   
  
"It is not easy, but I know that Severus tries to show them, very subtly, that there are other paths   
besides the ones that lead to He Who Must Not Be Named. I know that, if he could, Severus would cut   
himself to pieces if he thought that it would save the children of his house from the Dark..."  
  
"It's hopeless," I'd told her, speaking of Draco Malfoy in particular. Now, I was no longer so   
sure.  
  
There was more to Draco, than just his father's son.  
  
Severus saw me smiling. He glared, again.   
  
"I have not said that I forgive *you,* Filch! I most certainly do not!"  
  
"I know that, Professor. I understand."  
  
With a sigh, I continued. "I suppose then, it would be a simple matter for you to come up with   
some sort of appropriately dreadful punishment for me."  
  
"Oh, yes..." he sneered. "Albus did mention you wanted that. Well, throwing you down the   
Castle steps is out. And Albus wouldn't agree to any of the other things that I suggested to him."  
  
I shivered, not about to press him for details.  
  
He hissed in frustration. "Listen, Filch. Finding suitable punishments is *your* particular   
responsibility. Not mine."  
  
I stood quietly, waiting.  
  
"Don't look at me like that," he snapped. "You cannot make this my problem. I have more than   
enough troubles of my own. And I do not want to look at that pitifully woebegone expression every time I   
need my classroom cleaned!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor."  
  
"You must think of something, Filch! Fill out one of those nasty little forms of yours, with all the   
sordid details of your crime. Think of some suitably dreadful type of self-flagellation that will not offend   
the Headmaster's sensibilities! You must carry out your own sentence! Then you can file your form away   
with all your other little forms. Then you must do your best to let this matter go."  
  
"B-but... Professor...!"  
  
He gritted his teeth and glared at me. "If you do all of that for me, then I shall endeavor to   
forgive you."  
  
"Truly?"  
  
"I have said so, haven't I?"  
  
"You want me to punish myself?" I asked him, miserably. "But how? What shall I do?"  
  
"That is your problem, Filch. Not mine."  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! I really like thinking of the Gryffindors as a pride of lions, with Minerva the lead   
hunter in the pride. Albus cares for all his cubs, the lions, the badgers, the ravens and the snakes too.   
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! The house-elves provide yet another view of Filch's confrontation with   
Malfoy in this chapter. Poor Dobby understands, better than most, how powerful the urge to punish   
oneself can be.  
  
I've wondered why Rowling doesn't have Hagrid just get a new wand. Maybe Hagrid is just used to the   
broken one. He might even be better with the broken wand than some wizards are with unbroken ones.  
  
(I loved the image of Filch calling a Door out of thin air! He's due to discover that he can call Doors   
outside, into thin air, next chapter.)  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! And Thank you!! Chapter Ten was mostly talking, but it wasn't really   
stalling, honest. There were some ideas that I needed to fit in so that all the bits will make sense later.  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! I love your suggestions for probable Slytherins! They are perfect!  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!!  
  
Bratkatze: Thank you!! You are so right that Dumbledore would have made a good Slytherin, except for   
the fact that he isn't power hungry. Harry would have been an excellent Slytherin too. I remember   
thinking "oh, my, the Hat was right!" the first time I read "Goblet of Fire" and Harry was carefully   
manipulating Uncle Vernon into agreeing to let him go to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys.  
  
About Lucius, believe it or not, he ended up stealing more of the story than I originally intended to give   
him. Sneaky Slytherin. Spouting unexpected hidden depths all over the place...  
  
I like your idea of doing an author's notes section after the last chapter.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Yes, if Crouch, junior was still a person, then the other Death Eaters would   
not be pleased with him.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Sometimes Dumbledore makes the wrong decisions, but he tries to do his best... he's   
only human.  
  
Moody, of course, is highly motivated to discover if Barty Crouch junior left any other presents in the   
Castle. And now that Dumbledore and the other professors know about the vine-beast, they are aware that   
there might be other "surprises." They'll be looking, carefully but they have to strike a fine balance   
between keeping everyone alert, but not creating a general panic.  
  
Lucius Malfoy is insidious! I wanted to give him just a few paragraphs and he practically walked off with   
a chapter.   
  
Emma: Thank you!! Mrs. Norris thought that Filch's hangover was funny. But then the grumpy old git   
didn't feed her!  
  
Lyansidde: I'm not sure if I want to write Lucius again. He takes over! I don't know what it would take to   
make him return to the light. I believe that he honestly loves Draco and Narcissa. (If Voldemort were to   
harm Lucius's family than I believe that Lucius would take the Dark Lord down, or die trying.) 


	12. Absolution

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
Chapter 12: Absolution  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Once more, I sat at my desk with a stack of just-completed detention forms in front of me. It had   
been a busy night. I'd never had a whole class assigned to a detention, all together, before.   
  
The detention had gone well, all things considered. But I was still bone-weary. And, I had   
glowing purple spots in front of my eyes. Every child at the detention had been the same painfully vivid   
shade of purple.   
  
Professor Grubbly-Plank had drawn the short straw once again. The task of substitute-teaching   
Professor Snape's fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins always seemed to fall to her. Everyone knew that   
particular group of children had been a volatile mixture from the word "go."  
  
Poor Neville. He'd been too tired to notice that he'd added the wrong amount of one ingredient to   
whatever was in his cauldron, plus he'd added another ingredient that had absolutely no business being in   
the potion he was trying to brew.  
  
No one had been hurt. But the resulting explosion had made the dungeons rumble, blasted a   
disgusting mess all over the ceiling, and (for good measure) the resulting vapors had turned everyone in   
the room a shade of purple so vibrant that they glowed in the dark.  
  
"Dentention!!" Professor Grubbly-Plank had roared, shaking a purple fist at the entire class.   
"Tonight!! All of you!!!"  
  
Even the Slytherins hadn't been too angry at Neville. Everyone knew he'd been sitting up late   
every night, for over a week, trying to remove all the deadly vine-beast seeds from an assortment of toys   
and dolls belonging to first year Slytherins. His current project, a stuffed toy octopus, was very hard to   
clean.  
  
Setting the Potions classroom to rights again had been an ordeal.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd consider letting us use magic to clean up, Mr. Filch?" a very purple   
Lavender Brown had asked me, without much hope in her voice.  
  
I could tell that even the Gryffindors were really starting to miss Professor Snape. Severus would   
have sneered insults and taken away points, but he also would have been able to brew something up to   
make everyone the right color again.  
  
"Use magic? Well, that depends," I heard myself say. "Neville, are there any vines in here?"  
  
Neville, more purple than anyone, had taken out his wand and checked. "No vines," he'd said.  
  
"Good." I'd said. "It's all right then. Everyone, use whatever magic you need! I don't want to be   
here all night, any more than the rest of lot of you do."  
  
I'd never seen so many flabbergasted people in my life before. Purple, or otherwise.  
  
******  
  
By the time I had finished filling out every one of this evening's detention forms my right arm,   
already sore, felt like it was going to fall off entirely.   
  
Nevertheless, I moved the stack of completed forms over to the side of my desk and reached for   
a new, blank one.  
  
I picked up my long, black quill once more.  
  
NAME: Argus Filch.  
  
CRIME: Attempted Murder!  
  
I crumpled the parchment and reached for another piece. On the new form, next to CRIME: I   
wrote "Reckless Stupidty!" After underlining those words three times and adding a few more exclamation   
points, I sat and stared at it for a while.  
  
Sighing, I crumpled that parchment too.  
  
Wincing at the pain in my shoulder, I rested my head in my hands.  
  
******   
  
My desk was surrounded by crumpled up wads of parchment.   
  
I'd finally settled on  
  
CRIME: Reckless and Cruel Misuse of Magical Tapestry, Nearly Resulting In The Untimely   
Death of Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and   
Wizardry!  
  
There. That seemed to sum it all up neatly.  
  
I sighed. That was the easy part.   
  
Professor Snape had charged me with the task of finding an appropriate punishment for myself in   
order to earn his forgiveness.   
  
I had already written out a lengthy list of ideas.   
  
Directly after my detention with the Gryffindors and Slytherins, I'd taken my list to Headmaster   
Dumbledore, who needed to approve of my self-imposed sentence. The Headmaster kept refusing all of my   
suggestions.  
  
No, I could not spend a night alone in the Forbidden Forest, even if I was not tied to a tree. No   
type of corporeal punishment would be allowed, so I had better not mention Apollyon Pringle's cat o'nine   
tails again. No, he would not let me ask Minerva if she would consent to Transfigure me into something   
horrible, and leave me that way for a week. No, the Headmaster would not put a curse on me. No, he   
would not let anyone else put a curse on me either. No, I could not sentence myself to exile in Moaning   
Myrtle's bathroom. That wouldn't be fair to Myrtle, or Mrs. Norris, now would it? No, I could not have   
permission to go without water and food for any length of time. No, I could not wear a hair shirt, or   
shackles on my feet, or any sort of chains at all. No, I could not let one of the ghosts engulf me   
completely until I turned blue with cold every day after dinner for a week. Most of the ghosts would find   
that distressing. (No, I could not ask the Baron. The Baron had better things to do.)  
  
And no, I could not teach Fifth Year Potions with the Gryffindors and Slytherins, even if   
Professor Grubbly-Plank had said that it was perfectly all right with her.  
  
When I'd started unrolling my list further, the Headmaster had put a gentle hand on my arm.  
  
"Please, Argus. Just go to bed. It's very late."  
  
A solution to my problem seemed no closer than before, so I finally took his advice.  
  
******  
  
After a restless night, followed by a breakfast I'd aimlessly picked at, I opened my office door.   
  
A whiff of magic and the faint glow of something silver in the dimness provided me with a few   
seconds warning. It wasn't enough to save me, or Mrs. Norris who was at my side, from a powerful spell.   
I crouched on the floor, trembling, with my arms in front of my face, and waited for something dreadful to   
happen.  
  
A Weasley Twins prank! I knew that I should have expected something like this, but it's been so   
long! Fred and George have had their minds set on life beyond school, and on the joke shop they intend to   
open. They had not pulled any pranks on me since their giant exploding giant soap bubble, back in   
December.  
  
I heard a soft whoosh and a gentle twinkling sound, as if from small bells or wind chimes.   
Surprised, I opened my eyes to see many softly glittering sparkles of light, like fireflies dancing. They   
were drifting down from dozens of delicate silver globes floating along the ceiling.   
  
These effects were accompanied by a sweet whiff of cinnamon in the air.  
  
A sense of peace and well-being blossomed inside me.  
  
It was all part of a powerful, gentle Cheering Charm.  
  
I stood up slowly.   
  
At my feet, Mrs. Norris purred. She batted playfully at the floating sparkles as if she were a   
kitten again.  
  
This was Weasley magic, all right. But it was certainly not the Twins' doing.  
  
Moving slowly through my office, now transformed from its usually dingy self into an enchanted,   
glittering, sweet-smelling place, I went to my desk.  
  
There was a note resting on the blotter, next to all the forms that were waiting to be filed from   
last night's detention.  
  
I picked up the note and read:  
  
Dear Mr. Filch,  
  
Please don't be so unhappy!  
  
Love,   
  
Ginny  
  
P. S. The sparkles and globes will disappear by themselves. I didn't want to leave a mess for you   
to clean.  
  
For a while I simply stood there, holding the note.   
  
My heart would have been full, even without the effects of the Cheering Charm.  
  
******  
  
The effects of Ginny's Charm lingered pleasantly for a while. Even after they faded, like the   
glitter and the silver globes, I felt better. My head was cleared of the despair and shame that had been   
plaguing me for weeks now, ever since I had hurt Severus.   
  
I had made a terrible mistake. But no permanent harm had been done. I'd been lucky. All that   
remained was finding some meaningful way to let Severus know how truly sorry I was.  
  
My punishment did not need to be painful or humiliating or dangerous. It only needed to be   
appropriate.  
  
All of my prized chains and manacles were once again in their proper places, on the wall behind   
my desk. Dobby and Winky had been as good as their word.  
  
I took down one of the chains and began polishing. It helps me think. The clean, smooth,   
coolness of the metal links soothed me.  
  
Once, when I'd been polishing away, I'd looked up to see that Professor Snape had paused in my   
office doorway. One dark, sardonic eyebrow was raised in amusement.  
  
"Some people just use worry-beads, you know," he'd said to me, dryly. "They're smaller and   
more portable. But you never do anything the easy way, do you?"  
  
"Neither do you!" I'd yelled after him, as he'd swept off down the corridor.  
  
Was there an easy solution to my problem?   
  
I polished the chains, waiting for inspiration. None came. I continued working, doing the things   
that comforted me most. Filing away the detention forms was my next task.  
  
While I worked, I thought about exactly what Severus had wanted me to do.  
  
"Do your best to let the matter go," he'd told me.  
  
On the night I'd almost killed him, he'd made me furious. "You're a fine one to talk about   
lettings things "go," Filch! When have you *ever* managed to do that..?"  
  
I was kneeling on the floor, with a stack of forms in my hand, when the obvious answer finally   
occurred to me.  
  
******  
  
The day was grey and gloomy. There was a misty drizzle falling too. This would make things   
more difficult, but hopefully not impossible.  
  
I'd had to make many trips, carrying a great number of heavy things. With my sore arm and   
aching shoulder it would have been much, much harder without my Doors to help me.  
  
The Headmaster had been right. Ginny had been right. I could use my Doors to go anywhere   
within the protective spells that surrounded Hogwarts Castle. Even outside, on the grounds. I only needed   
to have a clear image in my mind of exactly where I wanted to go.  
  
The work took me a very long time. Most of the day was gone when I'd finished my preparations.   
I was sore and dirty, trembling with fatigue and covered with sweat.  
  
I sighed. The drizzle continued. I'd left Mrs. Norris inside, despite her protests. She would have   
been miserable out here, and there was no point in that. She'd been patient enough with me lately.  
  
Sighing again, I knew that I would need some help to do this right.  
  
Stepping into ever-patient black-and-yellow I said "Take me to Hagrid. Wherever he is."  
  
I didn't know if the Doors could do that. But I hoped they could. Finding a particular person   
wasn't that much different from finding one room out of the hundreds in the Castle, was it?  
  
"Hagrid!" I said, picturing his great, hairy face and wild black beard. "Please."  
  
I stepped through my Door, into the grey chill of Hagrid's garden. When I thought about it later,   
I realized how the sight of a tapestry, blinking into view in thin air, right in the middle of his vegetable   
patch, might have surprised the gamekeeper a bit.  
  
Sneaking up on Hagrid is never a wise thing to do. He's awfully quick with that crossbow.   
  
The sight of a startled half-giant aiming a huge crossbow at me made me shriek with fear. I   
cowered in the freshly turned earth he'd been working on.  
  
The bolt I expected never came.  
  
Fortunately for both Hagrid and me, Professor McGonagall had been standing with him, chatting   
in the gentle rain. She'd caught Hagrid's arm just in time. Her cat-quick reflexes had saved me from   
getting shot.  
  
It was Minerva who walked over to me and pulled me up, shaking, out of the dirt.  
  
"Argus!" She said, shocked. "You could have been killed!"  
  
"Yeh stupid old git!" Hagrid growled, his face as white as mine probably was. "What were yeh   
thinkin'?!"  
  
"I-I'm sorry..." I said. "I need some help. Do you have any wood? I have plenty of lamp oil and   
some matches, but I really need some wood. I'm trying to make a fire. The Headmaster gave me his   
permission. Please?"  
  
Both Hagrid and Minerva met me on the small hill behind the Castle.Hagrid had brought me a   
huge armful of thick branches. Minerva had levitated another huge bundle.   
  
They saw everything that I had neatly placed on the freshly raked, blackened ground. Their eyes   
went wide.  
  
Both of them stood there in silence while I began to stack the wood carefully around the things I   
wanted to burn.  
  
After a few moments, Minerva came to help me.  
  
Still wide-eyed, Hagrid joined us.  
  
"Do you think that it's enough now?" I asked them.  
  
"Yes..." Minerva said, very gently. "I think it is."  
  
I began pouring lamp oil over everything.   
  
My hands shook when I tried to light the match.  
  
Hagrid offered to use his umbrella, but I told him that I wanted to at least try to start the fire by   
myself.  
  
Finally, I got the match to stay lit.  
  
"All right," I said, when a tiny blaze was going. "You can help now."  
  
******  
  
With the aid of their magic, my tiny blaze had become a roaring bonfire, even in spite of the   
drizzle. It was very warm, next to the fire, but I could not help shivering.  
  
"Argus," Minerva said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Perfectly all right..." I whispered. "I had to do this, don't you see? He said that I never let   
anything go. And that's what he wanted me to do."  
  
I was trembling, sweaty, filthy and so tired I could hardly stand.   
  
Minerva was holding me up. She had her arm around me, not seeming to mind the dirt.  
  
"I'm letting it all go..." I said, quietly. "Forgiving them everything."  
  
"All of the mud they've tracked across the Castle floors for years and years. And their   
dungbombs. Their fanged frisbees. Their screaming yo-yos. Their ever-bashing boomerangs. Their   
pranks. Their staying up till all hours of the night, running around in the corridors. All their magic in the   
hallways, all their sneaking food out of the kitchens."  
  
"Their grubby little messes on the walls. Their gum stuck all over the stair railings, and the desks   
and the woodwork and every other place you could possibly imagine. Their inquisitive little noses stuck   
everywhere they don't belong. All their infernal frog brains and rat intestines splattered on the dungeon   
ceilings."   
  
"And," I sighed, "all my backaches and sore knees and blistered hands too."  
  
"Everyone makes mistakes," I murmured. "And, they're only children, after all..."   
  
I leaned on Minerva, who stood strong, beside me.   
  
"Please... let's keep this between ourselves. The Headmaster already knows, and the three of us.   
No one will know, or even care, if my file cabinets are empty. You won't tell, will you? I'm not going to   
tell anyone else, except for Severus."  
  
"Don't worry, Argus," Minerva said. "I won't breathe a word."  
  
"Nor will I..." Hagrid said, gruffly.  
  
We watched the bright flames and the rising sparks.  
  
Hagrid blew his nose loudly. I supposed that the smoke was really bothering him.  
  
I was covered with soot and ash. But I felt clean inside.  
  
******  
  
"You... idiot!" Severus said, his dark eyes wide with shock. "You.. Ass!"  
  
"Professor, what's wrong?"  
  
Startling Professor Snape had been the last thing I wanted to do. I know that I am not a   
particularly pleasant sight even under the best of circumstances. But I should have given some thought to   
what I looked like before I went to tell him that my sentence had been pronounced and carried out.  
  
I was filthy and dishelveled and I smelled like smoke. The bruises left from my encounter with   
an angry Lucius Malfoy were turning a great many interesting colors as they healed, which didn't help.  
  
But I'd been too pleased by my new discovery to think about how alarming I looked. The Doors   
really can be used to take me to a person, as easily as they can take me to a room! Finding Hagrid for me   
had not just been a fluke. After all my detention forms (save my own) had been burned, Hagrid had helped   
me put out the fire and rake the ground clean again.   
  
Then, I'd summoned a Door. Black and yellow had appeared in mid-air for me on the hillside,   
just as it had in Hagrid's vegetable garden.  
  
"Take me to Professor Snape..." I'd said to black-and-yellow.  
  
I'd been expecting to emerge into the hospital wing. But I found myself in another corridor   
entirely. Severus had taken to walking for exercise, slowly building up his strength again.  
  
Now he was looking at me with dismay.  
  
"Filch," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't believe it. You burned *everything* in those   
cabinets of yours?"  
  
"No, Professor, not everything. Just my forms. There's still all the things I've confiscated over   
the years. I can give some of it back. At least the stuff that isn't dangerous..."  
  
I reached a grubby hand into an even grubbier pocket. Pulling out a small, battered Sneakoscope,   
I held it out to him. "I think this belongs to you."  
  
He stared. "I haven't seen that thing since I was twelve years old. It's broken."  
  
"I know. You threw it at James Potter."  
  
"I don't want it, Filch. Please get rid of it."  
  
I pocketed the sneakoscope again.   
  
He appeared to be at a loss for words.  
  
"Professor..." I said, hesitantly, after a few very long moments of silence had passed between us.   
"I'm sorry if what I've done upsets you. Though I don't know why it should. It seemed the most fitting   
way of showing you that I'm sorry."  
  
Even if he didn't forgive me, I knew that I'd done everything I could possibly do.  
  
Snape shut his eyes tightly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
"My fifth years visited me today..." he said, slowly. "They're purple! All of them."  
  
"Yes, Professor, I know."  
  
"It seems that my classroom has been the site of repeated explosions while I've been ill.I am   
hoping, desperately, that my room is still usable! I have lessons to plan, if I ever intend to resume my   
work. Madam Pomfrey's stores of potions are extremely low."  
  
He looked at me with something close to his usual sneer. "My point, Filch, is that I have many   
important things to worry about! I have work to do! I can no longer be troubled with the state of your   
conscience!"   
  
Severus sighed.  
  
"I forgive you," he said, very quietly. "The matter is ended and forgotten. Now, please, go and   
clean yourself up."  
  
"Yes, Professor. I will. Thank you, Professor!"  
  
******  
  
I was very tired. I need a bath desperately. But I still had one important task to take care of first.  
  
Among the many items that I'd confiscated from students over the years I had found one precious   
treasure.  
  
The rightful owner was dead. But I could make sure that the item was properly presented to her   
next of kin.  
  
It would be a sensitive task. One too important and delicate to be entrusted to a grubby old man,   
reeking of smoke and nearly falling down with exhaustion.  
  
Fortunately, I knew someone who could handle the job quite well on my behalf.  
  
******  
  
Ginny was as alarmed by my appearance as Severus had been. Though she reacted in quite a   
different way. My little friend cried out in shock and concern.  
  
"Mr. Filch, are you all right?"  
  
"Fine," I said, smiling at her. "I've just been doing some cleaning. Getting rid of a few old   
things in my office that I don't need any longer. Your Charm was perfect... I feel like a new man. If those   
brothers of yours have any sense they will make you a partner in their enterprise. You could have your   
own side-line, with those Cheering Charms of yours..." I cleared my throat and got myself back on the   
subject.  
  
"When I was cleaning out my office, I found this..." I said, withdrawing a small bundle out of my   
pocket. I'd wrapped it in a handkerchief to keep it clean.  
  
"It's not a diary..." I reassured Ginny. "It's just a sketchbook. She probably bought it in some   
Muggle shop. She liked to sketch, and she had a good eye for it, too."  
  
I let Ginny take the little sketchbook. I'd taken it from another pretty red haired girl, years   
before.  
  
"She would draw anything that caught her eye..." I said softly. "One day, I caught her sketching   
me. I was cleaning the corridor outside Gryffindor tower. She captured my foul expression perfectly. I told   
her that she was a very rude and impudent girl and then I took her book away. It's been in a drawer in my   
office ever since. She bought another one to replace it as soon as she could. I'd forgotten all about it, till   
today."  
  
Ginny looked at the battered little book. A stub of pencil was still stuck in the binding rings. On   
the back cover, a heart was drawn around the initials L. E. & J. P.  
  
Her eyes went round. She understood what a rare, priceless thing she was holding.  
  
"Oh..." Ginny said softly. "Oh, Mr. Filch! I don't think Harry has anything that belonged to his   
mother..."  
  
"He'll have this now. You'll see that he gets it."  
  
"Yes.." she breathed. "Of course I will."  
  
"Thank you, Ginny."  
  
Quite suddenly, she hugged me.  
  
"What..." I gasped, a bit winded, "was that for?"  
  
"For Harry! He's going to be so glad! Thank you, Mr. Filch!"  
  
Smiling, I went off to take a bath.  
  
******  
  
From the outside, my file cabinets look the same as ever. Only those who bother to look inside   
will know that anything has changed.  
  
Sometimes you have to look deeper. Into things and into people.  
  
Almost everyone is more than what they seem.  
  
Draco and Neville and Severus and Moody.   
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Me.  
  
Wise men like Dumbledore already know how to look beneath the surfaces.   
  
But anyone can learn. It's never too late.  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Well, this one's over now. I've still got more ideas, though.  
  
I'll probably do one more "chapter" to answer questions and thank people who reviewed.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! That's exactly the effect that I was trying for, with Draco's apology! Writing the   
healthy, sarcastic Snape was satisfying.  
  
Miche: Thank you!!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, if Dumbledore ever said that Filch could use those chains then Filch would   
a)faint or b) start looking for hidden polyjuice potion.   
  
Filch and the house-elves is a relationship that intrigued me.   
  
I was rather proud of Draco too.  
  
Yes, Snape did not want to do anything to Filch. And the soul-cleansing gesture that Filch decided on   
rather unnerved poor Severus.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, a sure way to tell that Snape is better is when he starts getting sarcastic   
again.  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Yes, finding appropriate punishments is a gift of Filch's.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! 


	13. Epilogue: Another Lesson Learned

Squib Wizard  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
Epilogue: Another Lesson Learned  
Everything really belongs to J. K. Rowling  
  
  
  
I stumbled out of my red-and-gold Door into a dungeon corridor that seemed, at first glance, to   
be mercifully deserted.  
  
Blushing shades of red that even the Weasleys had yet to discover, I backed up against the wall   
opposite my tapestry, and slid down to sit on the floor. With a soft moan, I buried my face in my hands.  
  
The corridor was not empty. However, the approaching steps were familiar and trusted ones, so I   
did not look up.  
  
"Ah, Filch," a voice as smooth as black silk said. "What dreadful thing have you done now?"  
  
I greeted his comment with a mortified silence.   
  
Professor Snape sighed.  
  
"Have you landed anyone in the hospital wing?" Severus asked.   
  
His voice held very little of his customary sarcasm. And he'd had the courtesy not to add "this   
time" to his question. The fact that he'd truly forgiven me for what I'd done to him warmed my heart,   
even though I felt miserable over my newest offense.  
  
"No, Professor," I said, my voice muffled. "No one has been hurt."  
  
"Surely, then, it can't be that bad?"  
  
I looked up at Severus, stricken. Though my mood could not help lightening a bit at the sight of   
him.   
  
Snape's condition was greatly improved. His color was back to normal; still sallow, but no more   
so than usual. He was strong enough now to walk down to his rooms in the dungeons unaided and had   
finally been permitted to leave the hospital wing.  
  
He would be able to resume teaching his classes in a few more days, though Poppy had given him   
strict instructions about "not overdoing things."  
  
Professor Snape's expression, when he looked at me, was torn between amusement and concern.  
  
"It seems," I told him, sadly, "that every time I discover something new about how I can use the   
tapestries, I always find some new way to misuse them shortly afterwards."  
  
"Yes," he agreed with me, "you certainly do have a gift."  
  
Snape's quick agreement had stung, though I couldn't glare at him with a clear conscience. He   
was right, after all.  
  
"I am not sure if you knew this," I said, "but, the Doors can bring me to a person, as easily as   
they can bring me to a room..."  
  
Professor Snape gave me the sort of look that he usually reserves for poor Neville. The "it's not a   
question of *will* you get yourself into trouble with that, it's only a question of *when*" type of   
expression.  
  
"Go on," he said.  
  
"I had things to discuss with Professor McGonagall. A detention for some of her Gryffindors. So   
I asked red-and-gold to take me to Minerva..."  
  
I gulped.  
  
"It seemed perfectly reasonable," I said, defensively. "She had asked to see me as soon as   
possible! How could I have known that she would be in the staff bathroom... taking a bath?"  
  
"I don't suppose..." Severus said, his voice carefully deadpan, "that Professor McGonagall was   
pleased by your intrusion?"  
  
"Professor," I asked him, mournfully, "are you familiar with the story of Actaeon...?"  
  
"Of course. But you seem to have gotten your chaste goddesses a bit confused. It was Artemis that   
Actaeon disturbed at her bath."  
  
"The idea is the same," I said, in a very small voice.  
  
"Minerva would never turn you into a stag and have you hunted to death by your own hounds,   
even if you had any hounds, Argus. I suppose, in your case, she would have to Transfigure you into a   
mouse and set Mrs. Norris on you. But she would not do it. She wouldn't even curse you." Snape was   
trying not to smile, but he was losing his battle.  
  
"No, she wouldn't. Not with magic, or even with words," I said, blushing. "But the way she   
*looked* at me..."  
  
Severus shook his head, smiling openly now. "If your intention is to hide yourself down here,   
you are being foolish. The dungeons are the first place that Professor McGonagall will search for you."  
  
"I'm not hiding," I said, with as much dignity as I could manage. "I'm just... going to be in my   
office for a while. With my door closed."  
  
******  
  
I heard the soft padding of cat feet behind me before I reached my office.  
  
Somehow, I knew that it was not Mrs. Norris.  
  
When I turned, I saw a sleek tabby, regarding me sternly.  
  
"Deputy Headmistress." I murmured.  
  
Minerva stood there a moment later. Dressed in her customary green robes, hair once more   
wound into a neat bun.  
  
The memory of that long, black hair swirling around her pale shoulders in the water made me   
blush.   
  
She had looked like a lovely mermaid.  
  
"Mr. Filch..." she began.   
  
"Argus," she continued in a gentler tone when she saw my embarrassment, "I want you to know   
that I realize what happened was an accident."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am." I said, very chagrined. "I'm very sorry, Ma'am."  
  
"Mr. Filch, your apology is accepted. Now, please do not keep `Ma'aming' me to death."  
  
"Yes, M... er.. Professor." I was still blushing. "I j-just want you to know that I have nothing but   
the deepest respect... the most sincere admiration..."  
  
"Yes, thank you." Minerva's face grew faintly pink too. "It's quite all right."  
  
"All things considered, it would be in the best interests of everyone concerned if you were to use   
this new ...talent very sparingly in the future," she continued.  
  
I nodded. "I agree. I shall only ask the Doors to take me to specific rooms. Not to people! I... I'm   
very sorry, Professor."  
  
She smiled, a wry expression in her clear grey eyes. "There was no lasting harm done, and no   
reason for you to fret any further about what happened. We'll just put this down as yet another learning   
experience."  
  
I sighed, unable to avoid the sinking feeling that I had a lot more "learning experiences" coming   
my way.  
  
  
  
END OF EPILOGUE  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
It occurred to me that poor Filch could really get himself in trouble, by asking to be taken to a specific   
person. And that he was better off learning that lesson quickly.   
  
Thanks to the nice folks who reviewed the last chapter of "Squib Wizard!" and, also "The Squib and The   
Werewolf!"  
  
Some of these thank you's have already been included at the end of "The Squib and The Werewolf," but   
new comments have been added, because more people reviewed, and some folks reviewed both stories!   
(YAAAAY!)   
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! My next story idea that involves Snape very intensely is rather dark and is not   
completely formed at the moment. But I'm working on it.   
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! I still have more "fifth year" ideas lying around in my head.  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, Gred and Forge were numbers five and six on The List.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! I think I have a story idea with Sirius, but it's not completely formed yet.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Your latest chapter gave me an idea for a way to have Colin in a Filch story. ;-)  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! I've got more ideas in the works, but I need to get them to settle down a little and   
behave so I can write them. (Sirius may show up, the dark story idea that involves Snape involves him too,   
but I haven't gotten that story completely under control yet.)  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! I hope you're feeling better by the time you read this.  
  
Laureen N. Edgeworth: Thank you!!  
  
Emma: Thank you!!  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! Thank you!! Yes, I love the "Wizard of OZ" books! That's where my   
penname comes from.  
  
Unrepentantreader: Thank you!!! You went and reviewed all my stories!!! Wow!!!  
  
Bibphile: Thank you!!  
  
Kris the Intrepid Geek Queen: Thank you!!  
  
ColdCoffeeEyes25: Thank you!! Yes, Lupin's a sweetie!  
  
Bluemeanies: Thank you!! (I've always thought that the moon looked sort of like swiss cheese...)  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! I've got some more ideas for stuff Filch has left lying around in his file cabinets.   
He only burned his forms, not the items he's confiscated.  
  
Filch would find the thought of Harry viewing his father's (and the other Marauders') detention forms a   
bit distressing. Those forms are supposed to be confidential. On the other hand, I doubt that either Sirius   
or Remus would have cared if Harry saw their forms.  
  
Some of the ideas I have currently forming involve Harry, the other Gryffindors and Crookshanks too. I've   
got so many ideas I'm dizzy. (Well, I'm dizzy anyway, but you know what I mean.)  
  
The idea of Filch "dropping" someone during a journey through a Door is one that I've had in the back of   
my mind for a while. But, that would be a fate reserved for Death Eaters.. because the result would be   
death. The realm inside the Doors is a terrible place. Filch might take a student through one of his Doors   
to save that student's life, as he did with Neville and Ginny, but it would be a last resort.  
  
Nmber1hateddaughter: Thank you!!  
  
Zebee: Thank you!! Yes, Lupin added the mice. All your idea for animal-frightening boggarts made me   
laugh! Especially Fawkes and the bucket, and the big packages scaring the owls!  
  
Jorsen: Thank you!!   
  
Andolyn: Thank you!! Yes, exactly. It's control, not power, that gives someone real strength.  
  
RADKA: Thank you!! Filch didn't destroy any items, just his forms. He still has everything in his   
"Confiscated & Highly Dangerous" collection. There was a lot of stuff in his "Confiscated, but Probably   
Harmless" collection that he couldn't return because the student was no longer at the Castle and he didn't   
think their next-of-kin would be interested.  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! I did consider having Dobby and Winky disappear with Mrs. Norris, but that   
would have been far too traumatic for poor Filch, especially since he needed his cat's moral support when   
he went to face Snape.  
  
Yes, Lily's sketchbook was a way for Filch to repay Ginny's kindness. (The sketchbook is something that   
will come up later.. it gets Harry's attention and makes him notice that something is different about the   
caretaker.) I confess that I have a weakness for sappy stuff. (Usually, I try to resist, but sometimes I just   
can't.)  
  
Your reviews are always wonderful, and I love getting them, even if you don't do one for every chapter! 


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